


Balance of Power II

by Grendel



Series: Thronestuck [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Light Dom/sub, Magic, Medievalstuck, Middle Ages, a song of ice and fire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grendel/pseuds/Grendel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After agreeing to leave her village and join Lord Equius Zahhak's war party, Aradia Megido's life is entirely altered. There's a war on, and as far as Equius and Aradia are concerned, the sooner it ends, the better.<br/>But ending it is no simple prospect, and everyone has their own human weaknesses... and those who would exploit them.<br/>Part II of III in the "Thronestuck" series. Updates Wednesdays and Fridays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part II of the Aradia/Equius section of the Thronestuck AU. Damn that was a mouthful.  
> I'm assuming you came here from "Balance of Power I". If not, then that's ok, but you'll be missing a lot of backstory, and I recommend you read that first. But you don't necessarily have to to catch the story. Up to you.  
> Either way, this fic contains material of a graphic nature, including violence, sexual content, and batshit insane nobility. So good stuff. This one is also much better than the first part.  
> Please feel free to comment, positively or negatively, and let us know what you think. Happy reading!  
> -Grendel
> 
> Without saying anything else, I don't want my name to be attached to this fic anymore. Out of respect for Grendel's wishes, it'll stay up, but I'm removing my name from it.  
> -PunchRockgroin

The sky was blackened and stormy. It had rained the night before, a harsh and heavy rain that blew away a tent and killed three men and a horse. The ground was slick, and only the sure-footed could get through a sparring match without getting their breeches covered in mud. One man fell onto a rock and split his skull rather badly. In disgust, Lord Zahhak had ordered him to the medical tent.

The practice was a miserable, dank affair. The men-at-arms would rather be in their tents, before a fire, drinking spiced wine and fucking camp followers. Instead they were outside, getting soaked and battered. They all knew nothing short of an attack on the camp itself, or perhaps a devastating storm, would force Lord Zahhak to end training early for the day.

There was not a man on this field that wanted to be here. It was good, then, that there was a single woman among them.

Aradia Megido stood across the field from her opponent. She was bedecked in leather and scaled armor, a simple and practical set that had to be custom-made on the move. Aradia was easily the smallest person in camp actually expected to wear armor, so when Equius told the blacksmith to forge her some protection, it did not take as long as either of them expected. Her blade was a long, thin thrusting weapon called a side-sword, which she held comfortably at her side. She also had a shield, at Equius’ insistence.

On the opposite side was her foe, a young man-at-arms from the holdfast of Nak. His blade was a weapon common to fishing villages, a blade with numerous small, repeating points along the edge called “crocodile’s teeth”. He was a tall, thin boy lacking in extraordinary talent or abilities. The only thing about him Equius liked was his readiness to follow orders, which was all that was really needed.

Lord Zahhak looked at both emotionlessly. Aradia was raring to go, bouncing from one foot to the other. The boy from Nak, on the other hand, seemed nervous and confused. He had never fought a woman before.

That was about to change. Equius nodded at them both to begin the spar.

The mud was soon in a swirl around their feet, a whirlpool of muck and soaked earth. In no time, both of the combatants were spattered in it, coated to the knees and soaked to the bone. The metal of their armor was cold and slick, and the cloth of their clothing clung miserably to their skin, where gooseflesh rose along with the sweat of exertion. Their feet squelched in the mud that had made its way into their boots, spoiling otherwise firm footholds.

Fighting in these conditions was difficult enough. But one thing made it nearly impossible: Aradia hated this bloody shield.

It was too big, unwieldy and heavy. It didn't do her much good, because it slowed her too much to bring up in time to defend much of anything. She wasn't strong enough to use it to force back her opponent. Up until now, she had been training without it, and everything had been going quite well. She'd proven herself to have a natural tenacity and a willingness to learn that had made up for her lack of physical strength. She still wasn't particularly _good_ , not yet, but she was making progress, and she turned out to be frighteningly adept at technique and tactics.

But this shield was setting her back and she didn't like it. The man had knocked her down already, and there was mud caked all the way up her side, getting into her hair and dripping from her face. The young woman spat a mouthful of dirt and clenched her jaw with determination. She was going to win this, shield be damned.

Equius watched grimly as Aradia struggled with the shield. The weight was throwing her off, as anticipated. He had given her explicit instructions to hold onto the shield, regardless of whatever transpired during the fight.

Purportedly, it was to keep her safe. Sparring was done with live steel, something usually reserved for experienced combatants only. Aradia learned much faster than most, but Equius was still hesitant to put lethal weapons in her and her opponent's hands.

However, as concerned as Equius was for Aradia's safety, he knew she was both aware of and accepting of the risks. Her style was swift and unorthodox, throwing off men-at-arms who were used to fights being tests of strength and stamina. But one of the most important things in combat was fighting with a handicap. Sparring always took place in an environment lacking in the million uncertainties of battle.

Battles had attacks from behind, fighting while wounded, clashing of weapons that'd never meet in a tournament's field...a mess, in other words. That was why Equius was so insistent on practicing after the rain: he wanted his men (and woman) to know how to fight when even the ground itself was resisting them.

That was also why Aradia had been given the buckler. It threw off her carefully tuned balance, forcing her to learn to adapt. Equius couldn't have her shot in the arm with an arrow or have her arm broken by a warhammer, so this was the next best thing.

In a fair fight, Aradia would beat the man-at-arms. Not easily, but she would eventually. Her unorthodox style could be outmuscled and overpowered, but the stronger and swifter she grew, the harder was for that to happen. If Aradia could not adapt to the handicap, though, she would be defeated.

She didn't expect any help, and he didn't give it to her. Instead, Equius just watched, feigning disinterest.

The Naklander hit Aradia with a particularly vicious strike. It slammed into her side with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs. She was lucky that he hadn’t cracked a rib, and that it was the flat of his blade that had hit her and not an edge. There would be a line there later, she knew, red and angry and stinging. It would join all of the other injuries she'd sustained during her training, and there were many. Her first night with Equius had left her with a split lip and a black eye; choosing to stay had doomed her to more hurts before the first even faded. Nothing had been broken yet, and none of her cuts had gotten infected, and she was extremely lucky in those regards. But her muscles ached endlessly and for a time she was more bruised than whole.

But that had been weeks ago. Aradia had been traveling with the soldiers for a couple of months now, and it was amazing how quickly things settled into a routine. Though it seemed chaotic from the outside, Equius actually ran an extremely tight ship. Discipline was everything, and it actually proved to be more than a little exhausting just keeping up with the schedule. Even the actual war planning and raids were tightly controlled, though Aradia sat out of those bits. She was there, she would help as she could, but she wouldn't forward the success of the mission that had hurt Sollux.

It had hurt her, too, she supposed. But as brutal as it was, it had also changed her life for the better. At least Aradia thought so.

As she rushed to recover from the Naklander's last blow and return with a jab of her own, Aradia caught sight of Equius from the corner of her eye. He was passive, merely watching her practice as he so often did. He never spoke during training, only afterwards. His presence actually did help a bit, bolstering her confidence a touch.

It was enough to have her rush forward with the shield, charging the Naklander. It caught him by surprise and he hesitated just long enough for Aradia to slam into him shield-first. But she just was not dense enough to back up the charge. The young man dug in his heels and shoved back, using her own defense against her. Aradia hit the mud on her back and the Naklander stood over her with his sword trained to her neck. He'd very clearly won this round. Aradia groaned in frustration.

In the year of campainging before Aradia joined the camp, Equius had managed two clashes with Signless forces. Both were swift, easy, inconsequential wins. Anyone important escaped, meaning Equius spent the day killing easily replenishable peasant militias. However, in the five months since Aradia had joined the camp, Equius and his army had met Signless armies a total of three times. Those battles had been great successes: the enemy forces were disorganized, outnumbered, and taken by surprise each time. Several noted lieutenants were killed, and a likely location of the Signless himself had revealed itself.

Equius had taken to calling Aradia his good luck charm, even though she didn't have a thing to do with their newfound success in tracking and killing the Signless forces. It had more to do with the information provided by her friend, Sollux Captor. What he knew led them to more and more informants, and each battle yielded a step closer and closer to the Signless himself.

It was early autumn. Equius was not pleased about the notion of dragging an army through another winter, so he hoped that the Signless could be brought to justice within the next few months. At the rate they had been moving, that was certainly a possibility. Thus, the training. The Signless would be preparing himself for the war's final stages. Soon, his only hope would be to destroy one of the three armies coming for his head and then flee through the opening that created. House Makara was to the north, facing the sea, and House Serket was far behind to the south. That meant, in all likelihood, it would be the armies of House Zahhak who would see this last stand.

Lord Zahhak watched with pride as his knights and soldiers fought. He had watched many of them mature from dandies who had never seen war to hardened fighters. None had made progress at such a rapidity as Aradia, though. A month ago, he would not have dared handicap her against a trained man-at-arms; she'd have lost rather decisively.

Equius wanted to see how far she could go. So he had to test her, push her abilities as much as he could, as often as he could. Aradia could handle it. He had faith in her.

When the first round finished, they had another. And another. And another. Two... three... six... When all was said and done, the Naklander was the clear victor of the pair. But Aradia had managed to get two wins out of the eventual seven, and one of the other five was actually more of a draw. That was improvement, and improvement was always something… not much of a something, but a something nonetheless.

But by the end of it, they'd been at it for a quarter of an hour and both were too exhausted to move, let alone fight. Aradia's breaths came hard and shallow, burning painfully in her bruised chest. She was caked with mud and slicked with sweat. The man-at-arms wasn't in much better shape. He'd won, but he'd worn himself through in the process. If this were a true battle, he'd be dead for his lack of endurance.

The opponents respectfully parted, with the Naklander giving her a nod as they passed. Aradia appreciated that; most of the other soldiers did not take her seriously. The dismissive, mocking ones were actually the kindest. The rest? Well, at least most of them were smart enough to crack their jokes out of their commander's earshot. The peasant girl was unused to being the butt of bawdy jokes. It continued to alarm her when she caught note of it, and she withdrew, preferring to keep her own company. She trusted herself more than she trusted anyone else here.

She exited the ripped-apart training circle with her limbs hanging heavy. Even her hair, weighted down with muck, dragged on her. As she walked, she fumbled wet fingers over the buckles of her shield, attempting to free herself of it as she made her way back to her tent.

Aradia might not have noticed it, but her fight was the last to end. The remainder of the camp had gone inside their tents to try and gather whatever warmth they could.

Equius knew how Aradia felt. She was only on her feet now because they happened to be under her. If she fell, or were pushed, she would not be able to rise of her own accord. That exhaustion, the one that sank to the bones and filled the arms and legs with lead, was one Equius knew all too well.

Lord Zahhak nodded at the Naklander, who had fought with honor. He'd no doubt be the target of more than a few jabs for being an even match for a peasant girl. That said, no words doubting Aradia's ability in combat would escape his lips.

Equius walked up to his beloved, his long hair matted by drizzle. Aradia was barely on her feet, and in desperate need of a washing and warming, but in his eyes that made her more stunning. It made sense for a goddess of war to look her best after battle.

But they were not alone just yet. The camp had very few places which could be considered private, and for her own safety, Lord Zahhak did not show any emotion around Aradia when it was not just the two of them. Oh, everybody knew what was going on, but they were all too respectful or too afraid of Lord Zahhak to say or do anything about it.

Equius was a lord. He could do what he wanted. That didn't mean that he had to constantly remind his men of that. To the soldiers, Aradia was a project, a hobby of Lord Zahhak's. He was taking the most unlikely of people and turning them into a capable, deadly warrior. That wasn't necessarily false. It was far from the whole truth, but training Aradia was as much for him as it was for her. Thus, when he walked up to her, he spoke to her as he spoke to the men he had trained.

"You lost," Equius said bluntly. "Why is that?"

"I lost," agreed Aradia in a small voice. Even her words sounded absolutely exhausted. She was so worn out that it was a wonder she was able to make her jaw move and her voice function at all. She seemed muted. "I lost because this shield is a wretched thing and is clearly nothing more than a torture device." She shook the offending shield on her arm. The buckles were stubborn and her cold, numb fingertips kept fumbling, slipping off the leather straps before she could get a proper grip. It would be hard enough with two arms, but she obviously couldn't reach back with her left hand, leaving her to work awkwardly with the right.

"If I didn't have to put up with it, I would have won," she added resolutely. It was probably true. Though she and the man-at-arms were close in strength, and though he had many more years of experience than she did, Aradia's unconventional, unexpected fighting style had a way of catching people off guard, giving her the edge she needed. Just not, apparently, with the shield.

Aradia looked up at the towering man as they fell into an off-kilter step beside one another. Even with his gruffness, his presence was comforting, and Aradia chose to interpret that as a sign of affection. He loved her. She knew he loved her. After a month in his presence she ceased to doubt that. She was less certain if she loved him or not. She liked him, she enjoyed his company, and she actually quite liked sharing his bed.

But love?

"I don't think I need the shield, my lord," she argued, tone as blank and professional as her lover's, "It only slows me. I do much better when I can use speed as my defense." The buckles finally gave way and she sighed in relief. Her entire left arm had an unpleasant prickling sensation, and she circled her fingers and wiggled her hand a bit to improve the blood flow. She might have looked beautiful to Equius, but she felt miserable.

Lord Zahhak took the shield from her. It was nigh-weightless in his hands, but then, so was Aradia. He shook his head at her explanation. "A poor soldier blames defeat on his armament," he said severely. "The shield was a purposeful handicap. I knew you didn't need it. I wanted to see if you could adapt to that. You couldn't."

It was harsher than the truth, but Equius was a harsh teacher. Aradia's tenacity had once again impressed, but this had not been one of her most surprising outings. Aradia's exceptional talent was a double-edged sword in that regard: it meant Equius had expectations for her that most could not dream of meeting.

"No, I'm blaming my armor because it’s the armor's fault-" she started. But she stopped herself and shut up long enough to listen to Equius's words. Though she did not like what he was saying, she was not too proud to admit that he made good points. He was probably right. He often was, in such matters. That was a little frustrating, but it was better for him to he right in a safe situation like this so that she had he time to learn from the lesson before there came a time that really was dangerous.

"In battle, no fight is 'even'. Someone will always have the advantage of footing or weapon or armor. You might fight with one arm injured, or with an arrow in your leg, or with cracked ribs after a hard fall. This is why I loathe sparring as a means of training so much. Fighting someone on equal footing, with equal weapons and equal preparation, is next to meaningless. You must learn to adapt. If you cannot, then perhaps this is as far as you can go."

The argument on Aradia's lips fell away and she instead nodded. "I will train harder," she made an Orwellian promise, "I won't lose next time." With a track record like hers, it was not beyond reasonable belief that she was right. The Naklander would do well to watch his back.

Equius nodded at Aradia's promise. He believed her. When she set her mind to something, the gods themselves were wise to step out of her way.

"You are a mess," he declared. "But you have earned your keep for the day. We eat in..." Equius looked at the cloudy sky, trying to locate the sun. "...About two hours. Is there something you'd like to do before then to... relax?"


	2. Chapter 2

They arrived at the tent and Aradia pulled open the front flap. Inside was no warmer than outside, but at least it was dry. Without any preamble, Aradia starting getting rid of her armor. The scale plate she wore was light and flexible, as was she; she didn't need as much help as Equius did in pulling it on and off. "Is there any water for washing?" she answered the lord's question. Yes, she would only get dirty again in no time. But Aradia desperately wanted to scrub away the mud in her hair and on her skin. It was too rainy out for it to even dry enough to be brushed away.

Equius watched Aradia shed her armor. He was not wearing his full plate at the moment. On days when he did not plan to leave camp, he wore only a simple chainmail shirt. It provided weight and protection, but not even someone as colossally strong as him could wear plate all day, every day.

"I could have my squire fetch water," said Equius after a moment's thought. He walked over to Aradia from behind and clasped his hands onto her shoulders. Already, he could feel them widening and broadening. Her hours and hours of practice were paying off in a manner Lord Zahhak found most pleasing. "Then we could heat it in the fire," he murmured, "and I could warm you with it." He let the last words linger in the air for a moment.

Aradia had been anticipating a cold bath. That was the sort she had always taken, after all. If she wanted to be clean, she would go to the stream alone, someplace secluded. There was no point in hauling buckets of water and wasting time and energy heating them. It was smarter to rush through a cold bath and get back to the things that needed doing.

But in the war camp, there were lots of people there to take care of everything. Though Aradia had duties of her own, she also had free time. That was new. And she had people who could do the water fetching and make it all the easier. And she very obviously had the lord's indulgence to have this luxury.

And it did sound rather excellent.

"Could you?" she asked distantly as sections of armor left her body and clanked to the ground. Her head turned and she looked up at the man behind her. Equius was nearly twice her age, bigger, stronger, more powerful, more educated... Yet very often Aradia felt as though she were the one standing higher. He seemed like such a puppy at times, so eager to please her. She couldn't say she disliked it, now that she was used to it.

"I would like that," she cracked a tired smile, "...Do you think they make tubs large enough to fit us both?" she added thoughtfully.

"Barrel," the man corrected. "I am not foolish enough to carry a tub with me into war. And trust me, there is very little to do in the way of... maneuverability in a barrel." Equius shook his head, water being flung from strands of his hair. "I'm only wet a bit, I have no need of a bath. Stay here, I'll be back."

"I never said you _needed_ one," Aradia countered. In fact, either of them actually _needing_ the bath sort of defeated the whole purpose of what she had in mind. But then, she actually did need it, so really the entire plot was doomed from the start.

Lord Zahhak walked out of the tent, shouting for his squire. The boy's orders were to always be out of Equius' sight, while at the same time being close enough to hear Equius' voice. He ordered the boy to fetch two pails of water and bring them back as quickly as he could. The boy nodded frantically and sprinted off, glad that the request was simple.

While Equius returned to the tent and began to prepare the fire, Aradia finished removing her defensive clothes. She'd learned to be very diligent with them, and made it a habit to clean them off with rags and set them carefully aside whenever she was through using them. It was an exhaustive process, but a very good habit to have. Or at least, so she'd been told. It took her as long to do that as it took Equius to get the wood dry enough to burn. A small, strong fire was happily crackling in the center of the tent. "Come here," Equius called to Aradia, offering his arm to her.

It had taken her some time to be used to how bossy Equius was, though it made sense that he was that way. He had to be - he had thousands upon thousands of people he was in charge of. It could get tiring, but Aradia forgave him for it. She took the offered arm gracefully (or as gracefully as one could, after fighting in the mud and rain for hours).

As Aradia entered his grasp, Equius held her close to his chest, taking care not to shove her face onto the mail of his shirt. He held her gently but firmly. Although he had a much less miserable last couple hours than Aradia, Lord Zahhak was still damp and uncomfortable. They would cling together and share their warmth, he had decided.

"Tell me about the Stronghold," she requested, suddenly curious. She was too tired to talk; she wanted to hear someone else fill the silence for a while.

"The Stronghold..." he thought for a moment. Nobody had ever asked him that question before. "A warrior's city, through and through. It's not as extravagant as the capital or the Aquarium, and it's smaller than Mount Miracle, but besides the Capital, it's probably the strongest defensive position in the Empire... perhaps the world. Thick, sturdy walls on all sides, manned at all hours of the day by archers who could shave a man's beard without drawing blood at one hundred paces.

"As for what's past the walls, the city likes to build up. There are dozens of towers in the city, all owned by guilds or wealthy traders, plus a few brothels. The biggest towers of all are in the keep itself, the seat I'll sit on one day. The keep is tremendous: you could fit your entire village in there twice and still have space to build. Everything is bedecked in blue, from the outer walls to the bed sheets. You could fit a joust in the Great Hall, but we haven't tried that in a long time for, err, reasons.” Aradia smiled at that and nuzzled a little closer.

"And then outside the city are rolling pastures as far as the eye can see and then some. My family breeds horses on that land. Nearly every nobleman rides a horse hailing from Zahhak lands. Your pony and my destrier are both from the pastures. When I take you back home, I'll find you a yearling and you'll claim it as your own." Equius bent his head and kissed the part of her hair affectionately. It was wet and muddy, but he didn't care.

A horse that was truly her own. Now there was a thought! Aradia liked the pony she'd been given, she really did. It was a good horse, older and calm and dependable. Yes, she liked it... But it liked her rather less. The beast had already bitten her twice, and he seemed more annoyed with Aradia than anything else. Perhaps he sensed her incompetence and decided to suffer her a little less than quietly.

Before Equius had given her the pony, Aradia had never had a horse. She had ridden one once or twice, just other family's carthorses, tired swaybacks that lived to pull plows. It might be nice to try being around proper horses.

She nodded her head and pressed a little closer. It would be warmer if he got rid of his chainmail. And warmer still if they got rid of their clothes altogether, even if they did nothing interesting after that. But that could wait. The water would be hot soon.

"And where will I live?" Aradia questioned. So far the Stronghold sounded like quite the place, though she was having a degree of trouble actually picturing it. She had never been to a city so large, and she had never really been near any sort of castle. Her entire life had been lived within a few miles of where she was born. She was already further away now than she ever had been. "And what will I _do_ , once we get there?" she added after a moment of thought.

"My current plan is to make you a member of my household guard. You'll live in the Keep, and you'll be able to finish your training from there. After that, you'll become a man-at-arms...or woman-at-arms, rather. From there, it's a simple act of heroism in battle for you to become a knight." Equius nodded at the plan. He had spent some time formulating it, and as far as he could tell, it was the best way for him to preserve his honor while still having Aradia. House Serket wouldn't be happy, but he could promise them his firstborn child as repayment. "I'm going to try and get out of my marriage to the Serket girl. Once you're a knight, I'll be able to marry you without much in the way of consequence. You will be Lady Zahhak, and you will never want for anything for the rest of your life. That is my gift to you."

It was a terribly romantic notion. Taking a pretty but common girl, turning her into a knight, all so that she could wed a highborn lord... Yes, it sounded like the stuff songs were made of. A pretty story to make the children go to sleep, something everyone at the feast could sing along to.

Of course, songs had a way of focusing on the high points and the low points, and utterly ignoring all the plateaus in between. The bards skipped over the parts full of exhausting training, hard work, nasty weather, the dozens of confusions and misunderstandings that came of being thrust into an entirely alien situation with no prior warning and no chance to prepare... If any of that got a mention, it was glamorized as a long and hard but ever-so-worthy road. And then back to the romantic chorus!

And the songs were only made of fantasy or history. So for this to reach such a level (not that anyone really expected it to), it had to... actually... _happen_.

Aradia combed her fingers through her hair, watching Equius and his squire bring in the water. She helped set it on to heat, and was glad to note that the fire was quite cheerful, meaning that it shouldn't take it longat all to properly warm.

Equius heard footsteps sloshing along outside the tent. The squire was under strict orders to never enter Lord Zahhak's tent unless he was invited, a long-standing notion that predated Equius' meeting with Aradia by a decade. "There's the water," he said, slowly rising.

She waited until the squire was gone to speak again. "Equius," she said slowly. She only ever addressed him by his first name when they were alone. "House Serket... they don't sound like a particularly _forgiving_ family." From all he had told her, they seemed every antonym of forgiving. "How do you mean to get out of this?" A note of apprehension had crept into her voice; this had been nagging at her for some time, but only now was she voicing it.

Equius had never been one for songs. He preferred a joust or a good historical accord. Bards annoyed him, a trait that he and his father shared. Singers and the like knew better than to stop in the Stronghold and hope for anything but cold gruel and colder stares.

Equius knew that he and Aradia had a long way to go for his hope of marrying her to be realized. The months that had passed since he took her from her village had done nothing but reaffirm that desire, time and time again. But her training was far from complete, and becoming a knight would be a major, major obstacle. Equius could only push for it so much, and if he knighted Aradia without her having _earned_ it, it'd cast his intentions into doubt. It would be better for someone else, like his father, to do it, absolving Equius of any potential blows to his honor.

The question about House Serket gave him pause. No, they weren't particularly forgiving, were they? "House Serket," Equius said with a frown, "is not to be trifled with. They lack numbers, but only the Empress herself dares to command and bully them. They had a dispute with House Pyrope a while back. I do not know the details, but it ended, ah, bloodily."

Aradia snorted. She didn’t doubt that.

"There are a number of ways I can recompense them for breaking my promise. A gift of stallions would probably a good start, and perhaps a family heirloom to 'signify the unshatterable bond between our families.'" Equius air quoted the last few words, as they were not his own. Something his father would say, no doubt. They made Aradia break the monotony of her staring to half-giggle. It was funny, such a big hulking brute of a man making such a dainty motion. "I'll probably have to offer them a marriage with one of my bannermen, and... our firstborn son, the future Lord Zahhak, will have a Serket bride." Equius nodded at the compensations. It was quite the list, and even then House Serket would still probably take some offense. "Even with all that, I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to _force_ me to marry their girl. Once I announce my intentions to marry you, they'll probably send an assassin." Equius waved his hand dismissively. "Not that big a problem. They have worse tools at their disposal than that."

The first bucket of water began to steam, so Equius removed it and placed the second over the fire as Aradia stared blankly at him. Who on earth spoke of assassins so casually? It was absolutely ridiculous.

Then again, this was the same man who's own father had hired an assassin to do away with him, simply as a test. Another reminder that he was from a completely different world than she, a world which Aradia was about to enter, whether she liked it or not. _'Best get used to it,'_ the young woman thought to herself.

A cold wind gusted outside, setting the blue canvass rippling. Aradia shivered. Her wet wool and leather clothes were sticking to her chilled skin. No water had ever looked as inviting to her as that on the fire.  
"I hate to condemn our child to something you're trying so hard to avoid," said Aradia, frowning as she rubbed her arms to warm herself. It was strange to plan so far in advance. Strange to talk about the children that they would have.

Might have, really. Things like that were never certitudes.

What Aradia failed to understand was that House Serket used assassins to solve nearly all their problems. Disobedience among the men-at-arms? Assassination. Trade dispute? Assassination. Complaints over using too many assassinations? Assassination. It was predictable that anybody who displeased the Serkets would find themselves dealing with an assassin or two. It usually went without saying, but Equius had briefly forgotten that he was talking to someone who had the luxury of not knowing these things.

Equius watched Aradia shiver and frowned. As the second bucket of water heated, he walked around to the other side of her and began to peel off her shirt.

"Yes, but most lords don't get to marry who they want," said Equius as he struggled with the garment. "Our son will learn to love her, as all lords do. Had I not met you, I might have learned to live with the Serket girl. Now, she couldn't possibly make me happy, no matter how hard she tried. I'm sparing both her and myself that misery."

The shirt came away with some difficulty. It was nearly soaked and thus wont to cling. But eventually the leather jerkin came away, and Aradia's undershirt followed. The smell of wet wool filled Aradia's nose. It was a familiar scent, one that reminded her of dreary days out at pasture, and stormy nights filled with frightened bleating. Not bad memories, after the fact. She'd been no more uncomfortable then than now. And then she at least wasn't dealing with heavy metal weighing on her.

She took in a shallow, shivery breath as her skin was bared and a wave of nostalgia hit her. She was very quiet then, while she unlaced her boots and tugged away her leggings. Dresses had quickly proved impractical, so Aradia had taken to wearing men's clothes beneath her new armor. Everything was too big for her petite frame, but she made do.

"And if I die before we get that far?" Not a pleasant thought, obviously. But a fair question, considering where they were and all of the things Aradia would have to do to be considered worthy of marrying Lord Zahhak. There was a very, very good chance of a stray arrow or a brutal short sword, an infection, or an assassin before they ever named her a knight. And Aradia wanted to know what her lover thought to do without her. If only for morbid curiosity.

"That won't happen," Equius said, more sharply than he had intended. "Don't say it will." There was a moment of silence as he pulled off his chainmail, then his shirt, tossing both to the floor. "But if it did, I'd have little choice but to marry the House Serket girl, wouldn't I? I'd do my duty."

Aradia raised her brows at Equius's sudden outburst... But she could not stifle a flicker of a smile when his back was turned. He clearly cared very much, enough that the thought of losing her, even after less than half a year, bothered him. It felt good to feel wanted that much.

His pants came off as well, and now both of them were down to their smallclothes. Aradia had, under Equius' recommendation, taken to tying down her breasts with a length of cloth. He had once heard from a female knight that it made fighting much easier.

But even with her femininity covered and her body caked with mud, Aradia was beautiful. There was a far greater pronouncement to her physique in the months since they had met. Not only had her shoulders broadened, but her arms had manifested powerful little biceps. A cross of muscle appeared over her flat stomach, and her thighs had muscled to better fit her hips.

 _‘All she needs now is a few scars,’_ Equius thought, _’and no one could call her anything but a warrior.’_

Grabbing a cup from his nightstand, Equius took the second bucket off the fire. He tested the water of the first with his finger: hot, but not scalding. Equius filled the cup and poured it onto Aradia's shoulders.  
As the water ran down her back, Equius clasped her shoulders once more and began to massage them, careful not to hurt her.

Aradia stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his broad, heavily muscled torso. "It won't happen," she promised, kissing his shoulder softly. Even that forced her to stretch and stand on her toes, as his shoulder was naturally level with the top of her head.

When all of the hard work and training finally did come to a head, when Aradia finally was strong enough to even be considered for knighthood, her power would he very different from Equius's. He was might and strength and muscle. She was speed and agility and sinew. Both had their benefits and their drawbacks, both differed greatly. But they complimented one another very well. A matched set.

The water on her skin was godly. Gooseflesh rose and prickled along her arms and legs, and Aradia shivered pleasantly. The water ran in rivulets down her body to puddle on the ground, and the mud traveled with it. Clear tracks were left, revealing tan skin that grew cold in the absence of the water. The woman tipped her head forward to set her forehead against the lord's chest, listening to him breathe as he poured the water over her.

Equius closed his eyes, wishing there was a way to immortalize the moment. Some way for him to capture how he felt in a bottle, so that he could replicate the emotions at any time.

It had been a very long time since something, anything, had made him happy. Fighting was hollow joy: exhilarating and pleasantly challenging, but when it was over, Equius felt no different than how he felt when the battle began. Everything served as a hold-over, a way to distract himself from the deep dissatisfaction with which everything he surveyed filled him.

Aradia changed that. When her bare skin touched his, Equius shivered as well. He was making her happy, and that made him happy. He never thought it could be that simple, but then, he supposed, love isn't much like any other feeling.

As the caked mud slid down her body and onto the floor, Equius untied the cloth around Aradia's breasts. He took another cup full and poured it onto Aradia's head, the water soaking into her hair and onto her face. Equius took another cup and emptied the contents onto Aradia's chest. He looked down at her breasts, perky and sopping wet, and began to fondle them. "Do you ache?" he murmured, "Tell me where."

Cup after cup of hot water washed over Aradia, clearing her skin and sending both the day's mud and the sweat and grime of the past week dripping to the ground. The packed earth around their feet was growing muddy, but it couldn't be helped. The peasant had lived more of her life barefoot than not anyway. It didn't trouble her.

Beneath the grime, Aradia glowed. The contrast of cold air and hot water flushed her skin, making it rosy and healthy looking, warm pinks over her shoulders, her breast, her collar bones, the apples of her cheeks... The sudden attention Equius gave her soft breasts only added to the flush. After being bound all day, her chest was very sensitive, and she reacted quickly to his touch.

Until his hands wandered a little too far to the sides and pressed a little too firmly. The place where the flat of the Naklander's sword had struck earlier was welling up, as expected. The muscle beneath the skin, over the ribs in a thin layer, was tender and bruising like dropped fruit. Aradia winced and hissed, then caught the man's wrist in her hand. Her reflexes had improved; it would have taken her several seconds to grab him even a few weeks ago.

Equius looked down, surprised. Aradia's reflexes weren't the only thing that improved. She was stronger, too. Her grasp was solid and more powerful than expected. Equius could have broken it easily, of course, but not as easily as he might have once thought.

She held his arm still for a tick, and then pulled it away, back to the front of her torso. "Everything aches," she told him without malice. "The water helps." She squeezed his wrist once before releasing him. "Just keep me warm, if you would."

"I'm sorry," he said, peeking at the sensitive area. It was bruised, a purple discoloration marring Aradia's lovely skin. A healthy bruise, Lord Zahhak decided. He lived in constant pain, so constant that he barely even noticed it anymore. It was a burden all warriors possessed. The feeling of old wounds that weren't as old as one would hope. It was a quiet suffering that one day Aradia would share with him.

The water of the first bucket was beginning to cool, so Equius picked up the half-full pail and poured the contents all over Aradia. She was now soaked from the tip of her head to the soles of her feet. The bucket full of water was much more effective than the single cups. The mud flaked away from her skin and rushed out of her hair. Aradia helped it along by scrubbing herself gently with her hands and wringing through her hair until all of the water and dirt ran out and splashed to the floor.

Keep her warm? He could do that. Equius kneeled slightly and wrapped his arms around Aradia, careful not to put pressure on any of the bruises. The warmth he gave her was his own, the very heat from his body.  
Her breath caught as Equius embraced her. Well, he certainly was effective for warmth. Slowly, her hands pulled away from her hair and encircled his neck instead.

Equius rested his head against her shoulder and kissed the soft flesh beneath her ear. "I love you," he said, so quietly that she would not have heard it if they were not so close. He could hear her heart speed from his position.

Nobody had ever claimed to love her before Equius. And he hadn’t even taken any time to fall! The very first night with Aradia, he swore he loved her, as he had almost every night since. It still bewildered her a bit, but it was becoming a familiar ritual. She stroked his hair gently and bowed her head to kiss him on the crown. "I know," she murmured against his scalp. It was the most she could offer him, and she respected him too much to lie when she still wasn't sure herself.

The newly clean warrior-in-training reached a hand to touch lightly under her lover's chin, urging him to look up so she could catch his mouth in a kiss.

But before she could, the front flap of the tent was flung wide. A man in full armor stood there, breathing hard and looking frantic. "My lord!" he gasped. Aradia rushed to cover herself with her arms, only to realize that Equius's body blocked her from view much more effectively. "My lord, I-I am so sorry to interrupt," the man hastily begged a pardon, "But there has been some sort of war party spotted a few miles from here. We. The lookouts aren’t sure, but we think it may be The Signless."

"I believe my orders were clear," said Lord Zahhak icily, separating himself from Aradia and turning to face the man, "regarding the penalty for entering my tent uninvited."

The man flushed white. "I, err-"

"Fifteen lashes. After the battle, of course. Get out now or it'll be twenty."

The soldier wanted to stay in argue, but decided against it. Smart man.

"I suppose we'll have to cut this short," Equius said flatly. "Get your clothes on. I need your help putting on my armor." Aradia's refusal to return his declaration never failed to harshen his' temperament, so this war party couldn't have come at a better time. His desire to kill something was on the rise.

Equius pulled on his pants while locating both his broadsword and his bow. Lastly, his eyes turned to the dresser that held his suit of armor. Once they were both dressed, he'd call in the squire and the two of them would get Lord Zahhak ready for battle.

The moment the man was out of the tent, Aradia broke away from Equius and rushed to get dressed again. So much for her bath. The wet clothes were horrible enough the first time, but putting them back against her skin before they'd even had a chance to dry was just the worst. But it was better than being caught naked if the rebel forces stormed the camp.

It didn't take her long; she was clothed before Equius, at least. She slipped her scale plate on over her shirt. When the lord's squire arrived, he and Aradia had Equius in his plate in a matter of minutes.

"What do you need me to do?" Aradia asked as he got his weapons and she tied her wet hair out of her face. She didn't want to go on an attack... but she wasn't about to sit by when she could help defend.

Equius bounced from one foot to the next, testing his mobility in the armor. The shift in weight was always at least somewhat jarring, no matter how many times he wore it. The water didn't help: Equius could feel it soaking into the linens, slowing his joints, hindering his abilities. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too much of a problem. He'd be soaked in sweat and probably blood by the end of the battle, so getting wet now wasn't as big a deal as it could have been.

As he affixed a quiver of arrows to his back and picked up his bow, Equius turned to look at Aradia. "What will you do?" he echoed. "You'll stay here, as you have done for all previous attacks." Equius lifted the greatsword and handed it to the squire, who suppressed a wince at the weight. "You are not ready," Lord Zahhak declared, flexing his powerful fingers. "Today will not be your first battle."

The girl opened her mouth to argue. She was not useless... and there was much she could do even without lifting a weapon. It was folly for an able body to be wasted when there was any way to help.  
She never got that far. A shout from outside the tent, calling urgently for Lord Zahhak, cut off any debate at the knees. It was difficult to comprehend, as there was a sudden influx of sound outside - the hoofbeats of many horses, the crying of many voices, a strange burst of laughter - but it sounded like "Not The Signless!"

The shrill, clear blast of a horn, nearly a honking sound, split above it all, chopping the sounds like an axe. Alarmed, Aradia looked up. The squire nearly fell over backwards. "It's House Makara!" someone outside observed the obvious.

Equius' eyes widened.


	3. Chapter 3

House Makara's arrival tended to herald bad news. Very bad news. They were an incredibly mercurial family, known to kill for the barest of slights while ignoring tremendous offenses. House Ampora had lost a son a while back when the boy spilled some of his drink during a feast. When the Amporas took revenge by razing half a dozen Makara villages, Lord Makara referred to it as ‘the most entertaining an Ampora's ever been’.

If they were here, it meant that they wanted something. They wouldn't have arrived in strength otherwise; they would have just sent a messenger. It was entirely possible that the Zahhaks at the Stronghold had dealt some offense, and the Makaras were here to take revenge for that.

"This is...very bad. New plan, Lady Megido." Equius looked around. "You need to find someplace to hide. Get under my bed, and don't come out until I say so." If the Makaras were here to fight, Equius would fight them. But if they were here to talk, they could _not_ see Aradia. Once one lord knew, it was only a matter of time before the knowledge fell into the hands of someone who would use it against the Zahhaks.

For both of their safety, Equius had to ensure the Makara's would not know of Aradia's existence.

It was so rare for Equius to advise hiding that Aradia understood the graveness of the order at once. Without a question, she nodded and went towards to bed to hide. But she stopped before she crouched, just long enough to turn and reach up to put her hands on Equius's face. His eyes were so wide... he looked worried, if not outright scared. It scared Aradia.

"Be careful?" she pleaded in a tiny voice. She desperately wanted to kiss him, but refrained. It was bad enough for a dollop of affection to be seen between them, anything more would be dangerous, and anyone could burst through and catch them. Just because the whole camp ‘knew’, it didn't mean everyone really understood, and obviously he didn't want anyone arriving to know about her.

"I will," he promised before leaving the tent. With one last, pained look, Aradia crawled beneath the bed, watching feet from the crack of view she had.

***

Gamzee Makara was a pleasant, humorous, laid-back, relaxed young man...when he was in his cups. Which was often. Unfortunately, his lord uncle (a religious fanatic and the current head of Makara House) had cut him off. This made him cranky, to say the very least. To say more... he was furious. He blazed into camp with all the usual fanfare that accompanied a Makara's arrival anyplace, and called for Lord Zahhak. First his voice was quiet. And then he called again, this time in a frightening, harsh scream.

The Makaras might have had fanfare, but the Zahhaks had power, and plenty of it. Lord Zahhak sent his squire to fetch Aurthour, the giant warhorse that had seen Equius through a dozen battles. The destrier was loyal and sweet-tempered around Equius, but an absolute terror on the battlefield.

Equius mounted Aurthour as he rode up to the head of the camp, quickly inspecting the Makara army. He couldn't tell their strength outright, but if they had moved so quickly, there couldn't be very many of them. Perhaps a couple thousand men, three at maximum.

Unlike the men of House Zahhak, the men-at-arms in service of House Makara had very little in the way of a set uniform. While Equius' men were a sea of grey armor and blue tabards, the Makara soldiers wore everything from multi-colored furs to pants but no shirts to hide their tattooed torsos to several men dressed in full fool's motley. At the forefront of the army was an acquaintance of Lord Zahhak, the ever-capricious heir to the seat of House Makara. This was not the relaxed lover of song and drink that Equius had been the guest of in the past. This Gamzee Makara was a different beast entirely.

The men of House Zahhak gathered in their tightly rehearsed formations, spears and swords at the ready. Without being told, they knew to stand at the ready for any sort of aggression. Equius had disciplined them well.

Equius rode to the front of his men, looking down at Lord Makara. Only the benefit of horseback allowed him to tower, for = Gamzee was one of the few people Equius had ever met who was taller than he was. The heir to Mount Miracles was clad in purple finery, the sigil of House Makara on his breast. Unsubtly strapped to his back was a mace that was covered in cruel, gleaming phalanges. Equius suppressed a shudder. He had seen what one of those could do to a man. "Lord Makara," he said respectfully, his tone formal and stiff. "To what do I owe the honor of this... appearance?"

Even drunk and docile, 'subtle' was never a strong point for Gamzee Makara. He was about as obvious as a morningstar to the face and when he was sober he was about as gentle. Diplomacy was not a developed feature of his House, and he was no exception.

It was a miracle indeed that he actually managed to say what he did, instead of bursting directly into whatever he was there to discuss. (It _had_ been a fine line - only the urging of his generals had urged him to at least attempt a private meeting with Lord Zahhak.)

"Zahhak!" barked the young man. His horse was standing, panting, beside him. He'd ridden it into a painful-looking lather. Makaras went through horses like no others. Lord Zahhak frowned at the condition of the poor beast. He knew this one personally, actually; it had been part of a gift from the Zahhaks to the Makaras. Not only had Gamzee dyed its mane eight or nine different colors, he seemed to have ridden it half to death.

Equius had been raised to judge a man based on how he treats his horse. It was one of the few points he and his father agreed on. Luckily, Equius also had decades of experience in suppressing and hiding his emotions. The disgust never touched his face.

The man charged right up to Equius's horse, peering up at him on his mount. The light of the many torches cast him in terrifying shadows, dark and light dancing on his sharp cheekbones. Gamzee was lanky, alarmingly tall, with arms and legs that seemed too long and gangly for his torso. His hair was a curly wreck, wild and dark brown, manic about his scarred face, down to his neck.

"Zahhak, we need to have a fucking talk, you and I." His voice was erratic, alternating between a low, scratchy rumble and a shrill bark. Titles didn't trouble him, and he was too powerful to argue with on the points of decorum.

Lord Zahhak let neither Lord Makara's tone nor his coarse language faze him as he climbed off Aurthour, standing eye-to-scarred- nose with Gamzee. Equius resisted the urge to rest his hand on the hilt of his sword, instead electing to keep his face and posture neutral. "We were about to sup, actually. If you and your men wish, we would be honored to share our bread and wine with House Makara." Equius grinned inwardly at his good fortune. A Zahhak could handle enough liquor to kill...well, a horse. Gamzee, meanwhile, would be infinitely more malleable and easy to work with if Equius got him drunk first. The only downside was that Aradia would go hungry and cramped under the bed for hours.

Equius could always bring her food, though. And as for the aches... he had a solution to that, as well.

The tactic worked brilliantly. If there was one thing Gamzee could be accused of having a weakness for, it was food and drink.

Actually, he could be accused of having many, many weaknesses... he was prone to rages, had an appalling sense of humor that was embarrassing when drunk and brutal when not, he was as much a religious fanatic as his uncle, and he lacked any form of morality beyond the tenets of this warped theology... but, mostly, he was fond of food and drink. Particularly strong beer and sweets. "I haven't had a drop of any proper drink since I left on this campaign," complained the man in a low rumble. His bright, manic eyes narrowed at Equius as he thought it over. The fact that he had not agreed instantly only meant that whatever his business was, it was very serious indeed.

For a tense moment, he seemed about to refuse. "...Fine," he said, cracking into a grin that stretched his face and split so wide that it was absolutely terrifying. "I will tell you over dinner, brother." There was a rustling in Makara's men. Apparently pleased by that, one let out a loud whoop. Gamzee's head turned like lighting and he screamed, "Shut up!" into the ranks. They all silenced and froze. The lord turned back and returned to grinning at his host. "I don't guess you'd have any mead?"

Equius gestured for Gamzee to follow, and his men parted before the two of them. "Somebody order the chef to bring out the extra bowls," Equius ordered to a boy he recognized as a cooking attendant. "And the mead." Dining with a belligerent Makara was slightly below wrestling a man on fire on a list of ways Equius wanted to spend his evening, but this was his duty. He would keep Lord Makara drunk and happy at his own expense, and then he'd treat Gamzee with a respect he didn't have for him. It was what was expected.

* * *

The camp was sparsely guarded and quiet as death. All the warriors, including Lord Zahhak himself, had gathered at the head of the camp. It was the perfect opportunity for Scratch to move.

The camp had accepted him as a priest, which was technically true. He blessed injured soldiers and helped saw off infected limbs, and no one was the wiser to the identity of the kind-worded, white-haired priest.

He quietly walked over to the door of Lord Zahhak's tent and opened it. At first glance, the spacious tent was empty, save for a bucket of water on the floor for... some reason. The man considered a smile.

Aradia felt her heart stop beating. She slid her arms up, scraping them over the dirt ground to push her hands against her moth. She had to be quiet, as quiet as she possibly could be. Even if this was no more than a page... but it couldn't be a page, it wouldn't be. No man in the war party was stupid enough to barge into Lord Zahhak's tent when it was open like that, uninvited.

She'd been lying there for so long now - her arms ached, her back ached, her foot was going to sleep... she was exhausted and hungry and scared to move. Equius had seemed so grave, she didn't want to risk anything.

Scratch shut his eyes and listened. Breathing, ten feet in front of him. Some slight stirring, wet cloth brushing against the floor. A creak from the underside of the mattress. Scratch walked over and knelt a few feet away from the bed. "I know you're there, Lady Megido," he said in his kindest, most coaxing voice. "Please reveal yourself."

The sudden sliver of a face through the crack of view she had alarmed her. Her pupils dilated, making her eyes look like solid, dark disks, brown melding with the black in the shadowy light, in sharp contrast with the pale, pale man who suddenly faced her. The girl did not move an inch, other than to lower her hands. She didn't try to crawl out. If the man was here to kill her, he would have more than enough time while she moved, and she was not going to die making a fool of herself. "Who are you?" she asked instead, voice eerily level.

"A friend." Scratch smiled as he stood up, watching the underside of the bed. He could make out the shape of the girl, her wet hair pushed against the ground. "I would like to have a word with you, if you'd only come out."

Technically, they could talk at length right here, like this. But it was dreadfully rude of her to hide her face. Scratch could always make her come out, but that would be rude as well. Even rudeness did not excuse rudeness, in his opinion. "I am sure you are quite uncomfortable," he offered instead. "I am sure you would much rather conduct our conversation in a less extraneous position." He folded his arms and waited politely for Aradia to show herself.

Well, he clearly already knew she was there. And somehow he already knew who she was. Aradia was then inclined to think it was too late for any form of secrecy, so she gave in and inched her way out from beneath the bed. She was not a pretty sight. The dirt packed ground had left her looking as if she'd never had a bath, and brown earth clung to the long dark wet curls of her hair and smudged the places where her face had pressed down. Her wet cloths were a mess, and there was a red pattern of marks on her neck where her scale plate had dug into her skin.

In spite of all this she stood tall (all five-foot-four of her) and proud, chin lifted. The eye contact she made was dead-on, unflinching from the watery, nearly colorless blue-green of the stranger's. "A friend, sir?" she echoed, skeptical but polite (Equius's training had not fallen on deaf ears). "Well then. You already know my name, may I ask yours?"

Scratch looked upon the girl neutrally, taking stock of her body. Broad shoulders, tight musculature in the arms, apparently strong enough... yes, she'd do well. Certainly a good start; he had Zahhak to thank for that.

"Scratch. Call me Scratch." He smiled even wider and bowed his head to the girl. "A pleasure." The girl was about his height, with a subtle fire in her eyes. There was power in her, even a fool like Zahhak could see it. Scratch doubted he knew what it was, though. "I am a... purveyor of extraordinary talents. Ones like the talent you possess, Lady Megido."

Scratch raised his bony white hand and showed his palm. Then, ever so subtly, he twitched his fingers, asserting his presence into the tent. The room filled with a stuffy aura, something that could be felt and heard and even seen but not described. A pure intensity, alien and dangerous and most of all _powerful_. "You can feel that, I imagine. Let me tell you a little about yourself. You've always picked up things quicker than most; as a result, you found yourself independent, strong, better. You didn't consciously decide to be this way, it just happened, and you were never able to quantify it. And when you met Lord Zahhak, you didn't see the threat. You saw through his facades, through his armor and muscles and power and to the weak, helpless, unhappy creature he is. Because that's what you can do, Lady Megido: your mere presence whittles others down to their most base, their essence. Why? Because that is your gift."

Scratch paused for a moment to breathe, and then continued. "But you've never had the opportunity to refine it, because you didn't know what to call it. Something different, something strange. The term is misleading, but we commonly refer to it as 'magic'. Something that you, Lady Megido, have no lack of."

The press of magic in the room was too strong to ignore. It was the strangest sensation, as if the air had suddenly grown thick, heavy, almost humid, but with a chill to it rather than a heat. It made the hair on the back of Aradia's neck stand up, and caused a bristling pins-and-needles sensation all the way up and down her spine. 

She did not draw away from it. It was a repelling force, but for some reason she couldn't quite explain, it was familiar. She _knew_ what it was, without any explanation. She leaned back slightly, but her feet remained rooted. There was no way for her to tear her eyes away from the man's hand. "Magic?" she said, the volume of her voice barely above a breath. Her mouth felt dry. Sollux used to tell her (swore up and down, really) that there was something special about her. He had insisted that Aradia sparked with something, that maybe she had something to her… And sometimes she almost wanted to believe him.

But out loud, Aradia had always insisted that Sollux had no idea what he was saying. Her sheep did well because she took good care of them. She picked up on new things quickly because she paid attention. She could figure out people because she was good at empathizing. She was _not_ magic.

Because magic was one thing in the cities, where a few fancy tricks could win favor and impress people. But way out in the provinces, where Aradia lived, it could be a death sentence. Why accept that you're a terrible farmer when it was easier to blame the failure of your crops on the witch down the road?

Aradia swallowed the tightness in her throat. "That's ridiculous. I would know if I had magic."

"You really wouldn't," said Scratch in the same lifting, polite voice that he used to say everything. "Most ‘magi’ are charlatans. Slights of hand, tricks that fool the foolish. There's nothing extraordinary about it. You, and I, possess something altogether different."

He closed his palm, and the intensity in the room solidified, compacted into a ball a bit bigger than his head. He casually sent the shimmering sphere of energy forward, towards Aradia. It moved at a snail's crawl, but an inexorable one.

"Try and stop it, if you can." Scratch smiled at the girl confidently. "And then think about how you managed to surpass men-at-arms with years of training after only a half-year. That isn't natural." Scratch paused, watching the sphere float closer and closer to Aradia. "Oh, you might want to stop it soon. If it touches you, it will hurt rather badly."

It was just a big, floating ball... it looked so innocent... but there was a force, a feeling that accompanied it. It felt like lightning, heated and sparking and not something anyone wanted to touch. She was inclined to believe Scratch's warning.

The woman drew back a step and put up her hands. She rather wished she had a sword on her - all she wanted to do was reach out and slice the thing out of the air. It was remarkable how alarming it was and all she wanted to do was to cut it in half and watch it splinter, watch it sever, see it crash to the ground -

And then it did.

All she'd done was lift her hands and want it, want it very, very badly indeed. The ball split in two, a clean, neat line, and ceased its floating, as if it had blinked right out of the universe.

Aradia drew in a shaky breath and realized she'd been holding it the whole time. Her eyes lifted mistrustfully to Scratch. "What was that?"

"There isn't a word to adequately describe it. Aura is a word I've heard thrown around for it, so I suppose we can use it." Scratch chuckled as the ball reformed in his hand. It began to twist and reshape into a new shape, a man tall and strong. "Lord Zahhak saw your power, but he didn't know what to call it. With him, you will never learn how to use your talent." Scratch slipped his hand back and the little Lord Zahhak dissipated. "Mortality is fleeting. That's why you shouldn't waste this opportunity to become a god. You can do that and so much more, with the proper training."

Scratch walked over to the girl and shot his hand out, seizing her necklace. Her first reflex when he got that close was to lash out at him. But something made her stop. He was so strange, so very different and truly arresting... Aradia didn't think that she could actually bring herself to move against him. Something in her recognized that he was vastly more powerful than she was, and that he could rid the world of her with nearly no effort. Just as Equius could slice her in half without too much of a fight, this _Scratch_ could end her. And he probably wouldn't even need to lift his hands to do it.

They held there, Scratch calm, Aradia holding her breath. After a moment, he released the necklace. "I've imbued it with my power,” he explained, “Simply hold it up to your mouth and whisper the word 'English', and I will share my strength with you."

The necklace felt warm against her - she could feel it through her clothes and plate when it thunked against the armor with a metallic _clink_. The heat faded quickly, but that it had been there at all gave her unpleasant chills.

Scratch showed his teeth, perfectly white, perfectly straight. "I think you will need this power sooner rather than later. Goodbye, Lady Megido."

Scratch turned to the door and started to walk towards it, then stopped. "Oh, one last thing. I'll place a threshold ten feet from the door of this tent. When someone walks over it, they'll break it. Until somebody does that, there's no need to hide under that bed."

Without waiting for a response, Scratch walked through the door of the tent, and Aradia watched in silence. The man left her alone, heart hammering, mind barely able to register what had just happened. Aradia found herself collapsing back into the bed, hands over her face, rubbing her eyes.

Something told her that she shouldn't tell Equius about this. At least, not yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Sorry for the sudden cliff! Updates will get better now, and I'll make up what we owe ya'. Us authors had some personal junk going on recently, so our update schedule got rather thrown off. Whoops. 
> 
> Enjoy and please review anyway!
> 
> -Grendel

Gamzee was not a lightweight. In fact, he had a remarkably impressive capacity for drink. But once he started, he was a man on a mission, and would continue imbibing until his eyes crossed and his mind went in circles, and the world started humming around him, high and soft and all in unison.

He wasn't quite to that point yet, but he was more than halfway there by the end of dinner. Equius had been clever to insist upon the meal, as Gamzee had mellowed out considerably. His grin was now a lazy, calm thing, not the Cheshire split-mouthed look of two hours ago.

"Equius, my brother," he said, voice leveled out to the simple gravel road rumble, "I like your cook. I should take him with me." He laughed at that, though it could still be some form of threat. It was hard to know. He picked at the crust of pastry soaking up the thin gravy on his dish. "I want more of these miraculous pies!"

Equius elected to drink from his flagon instead of reply, as well as wave his hand for a chef to bring Gamzee his desired pies. Makara had drunk his way through half a dozen flagons already, something Equius had little choice but to match. It had paid off, though. Equius was only a bit disoriented, while Gamzee was piss-drunk. And piss-drunk meant easy to sway, and easy to sway meant unlikely to be homicidal.

"I believe it's time to speak of what you wanted to tell me," rumbled Equius as he struggled with his fork. He had little choice but to eat in his armor, an exercise in cumbersome frustration. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Lord Makara?"

For a few moments, Gamzee seemed too out-of-it to respond. He cut a meat pie in half and consumed the whole mess in two bites, chewing and gulping it down with relish. An oddly long tongue licked over his lips, and he washed it down with a few long draws from his flagon. Only when he was finished did he bother to respond to his reluctant host. "Brother, I found some of your men," he said, fairly simply, fairly straight-forward. "I expected some of the rebel brother's little spy-men running around... but these brothers were _yours_." He waved a hand about to gesture, and ended by point at Equius's broad chest.

It was a wonder he wasn't slurring. "Now _why_ ," he asked, leaning back in his seat, tipping at a dangerous angle, only supporting himself with his muscled stomach, "would there be some of _your_ brothers in _my_ camp, without me all up and knowing about it? They were all sneaking around, trying to find out things they weren't supposed to be knowing..." He sat up properly and turned to straddle the bench and stare at Equius. "You want to be enlightening a fucker about why that is?"

House Zahhak spies in the Makara camp? That didn't sound right. Equius certainly hadn't ordered such a thing. Look-outs and messengers to keep track of Makara motions, yes, but nothing so intrusive as actual spies within the camp.

Equius frowned, his thick black eyebrows furrowing. "It's as much of a surprise to me as it is to you," he answered honestly. "On my honor, we did not send spies into your camp. That leaves two possibilities. The first is that I am lying, and the second is that I am being framed." Equius shook his head, quickly thinking of a solution. "Those men are nothing to me. If I were you, I'd torture them until they told you who they are really working for. In the meantime, I'd be willing to pay reparations as a show of goodwill between our families. House Zahhak and House Makara are allies. We have no interest in spying on our allies."

It was one of the rare cases where the truth was the best political maneuver. Well, the truth and some food and gold. Whoever did this was going to pay for it in flesh, Equius decided. Nobody tries to sabotage his honor and gets away with it.

The wild-haired man burst out into a rumbling belly laugh that scraped across his throat on the way out of his mouth. "Aw, Equius brother, I never thought you'd be the lying type." He was overly familiar, something that would certainly be rudeness or presumptuousness in anyone else. With Gamzee, it might have been as simple as him forgetting that they weren't the best of mates. "I was thinking you'd be telling me the truth if I got myself all the way over here to be asking you myself."

He leaned back over the table, spine curving into a _C_ -shape of terrible posture, elbows up on the platform as he hunched over his food. Tendrils of hair trailed down into the meat pies, though it was doubtful that either could get the other any greasier than they already were, so what did it really matter? "Here's the little tangle with the torturing bit," Gamzee went on, sounding vaguely like a guilty child, caught in the larder with honey on their mouth, but considering any price totally worth it. "I might have already smashed their heads in." He turned his neck to look up at Lord Zahhak. "You get how it is, brother. Reparations sure sound like good things, though."

He chuckled again and finished off his tankard, smacking his lips noisily. "So," he said eventually, "Who do you think would be all up and wanting to frame you? You're not much fun, but you're a good enough man in my book, brother."

Aaand that was why Equius never sent spies into House Makara camps. The stance of the entire family was no quarter. The spies would be risking slow, painful deaths for very little that House Zahhak truly needed.

Of course, if all the spies were dead, it led to as Gamzee said: something of a wrinkle. Namely, there was absolutely no way for the identity of the spy's employer to be discerned. They were left with guesses and little else.

"The most likely culprit is the Signless," said Equius after a moment's thought. "I suppose it could have been another lord, but that feels unlikely. The most obvious explanation is the rebel attempting to force a schism into the Imperial forces coming to kill him. A rather weak attempt, but if he's made one effort, it's safe to someone he'll make more." Equius sat back in his chair, the metal plate on his back preventing him from getting truly comfortable. The second Gamzee was taken care of, Equius was getting out of this armor and finishing what he and Aradia started earlier. He needed something to take care of the soreness that was digging into his bones, taking hold of him inches at a time.

"Blasphemous fucker," Gamzee growled, a hint of his usual nature flickering through his hazy drunkenness. "All walking around and running his mouth about ridiculous shit."  
One of the cook's boys slipped around to pour more strong drink into Lord Makara's cup. The boy, Equius noted with appreciation, mostly kept his hands from shaking. Mostly. "I'm not all up and caring if somebody was born in a fucking castle or a fucking pig sty-" Lord Makara paused to drink from the newly refilled flagons, "-but acting like there’s no fucking difference and like all these lowborn scums are just as fucking important... Blasphemy!"

"I'll drink to that," said Equius, in full agreement with this condemnation, "The lower castes must know their place. All the Signless does with his rebellion is bring death and hunger to his people and ours. For the good of all people, from the Empress to the commoners, he must be stopped."

It would be another flagon before Gamzee relaxed enough to stop caring entirely how people had been born. As it was, he still remembered that his religion was very strict concerning caste. Luckily that flagon came quickly, and then another. By then Lord Makara was well and truly inebriated. He had finished off the pies and was alternating between laughing and drifting into a half-sleep, slumped over the table with his head on his hand, cheek distorting against his fist, making the scars over his face twist like worms. "Glad we had us this little talk, brother," he rumbled to Equius. Lord Zahhak had dodged quite the arrow.

As Equius sipped his drink, watching Gamzee put away flagon after flagon (after flagon after flagon...) his thoughts drifted to the little secret he had stowed away in his tent. Aradia was still under the bed, cramped and confused and uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the drink making him emotional, but the whole thing made him angry. This was _his_ camp, and she was _his_ lover. Yet Lord Zahhak had to hide her, like she was something to be ashamed of.

He would make it up to her, somehow. When his head was clearer and his body was less sore, he'd think of something. Equius looked around the table and noted that just about everyone was finished eating. "A pleasure to have the Makaras visit. I'm glad we could clear up this confusion. I'll write to my father to present your family with reparations. Until then, I'll see you and your men off; you have a ride ahead of you, no doubt."

Or in much simpler, less polite terms: _get out_.

At Equius's behest, Lord Makara and his imposition of men wrapped it up and left. As with any large group, it took a while for them to get on their horses and be ready to leave.  
But after some coaxing and the span of an hour (and Lord Makara's generals all but carrying him out) the war party finally left the camp in peace. Equius had been a very successful diplomat that evening.

Once he was rid of the Makaras, Equius headed back for his tent. His duties for the day were done. In his hands he carried a plate of bread and cheese for Aradia. Holding onto the plate with his mailed hands wasn't easy. Equius didn't mind wearing his armor to battle, but for mundane activities like this, it was nothing but a burden.

Aradia had spent the entire time laying sideways across the bed, legs below the knees hanging off the edge. The experience with Scratch had left her confused and ill at ease. She did not believe that she could trust anything he did... Yet somehow she knew, understood in her bones, that he was right about her. How else would she manage to learn so quickly? How else would she have managed to be so unafraid of Equius? She had put it up to her own foolhardiness and, when she was feeling particularly good about herself, even bravery. But that didn't make much sense. Something else was at play here.

When a pair of feet crossed the threshold Scratch had set up, a pulse of _something_ (energy? a gust of wind?) pushed through the tent, hitting Aradia square in the chest. Her eyes flew wide with alarm and she scrambled up, rolling beneath the bed to hide again.

He walked into the tent, looking back and forth. "Aradia?" he called gently. "I've returned. It's safe to come out-" Equius stopped mid-sentence. There was something strange about the tent. Different, somehow. There was a frigid, breathless quality to the air that felt very different from anything he had ever felt before. It was like someone had pulled all the life from the tent...that was the only adequate way for Equius to express it.

The moment Aradia heard his voice, she started crawling out from her hiding place, arm over arm in a soldier’s belly climb. The room was icy, but seeing him made something of Aradia flare up. The contrast was spicy cinnamon in the mouth on a bitterly cold day. She had a heat to her, always, and right now it was flickering skittishly.

For all Equius knew, this could all be concern left from when he had ordered her under the bed to hide. But she was clearly upset, reason regardless.

She stood there, wavering, looking like she wanted to rush into his arms but was restraining herself. "...What happened?" she asked him in a low, slightly dry voice. "Is everything alright now?" Oh God she wanted his arms around her, just to prove that something in the world was solid enough to trust with her weight.

And just like that, the room filled with warmth and intangible, essential life once more. Equius couldn't help it; he smiled when he saw Aradia's face. The last few hours had been physically uncomfortable, mentally tense, and wine-soaked. But it was over now.

Equius headed over to Aradia without hesitation. He placed the plate on the bed, then seized her between his arms and kissed her long and hard. It was no less than half a minute before they broke. Equius's ability to make Aradia feel safe again with just one kiss felt like more of a magic act than anything Scratch had shown her. Her lips buzzed when they separated, and she wanted to have another. But there would be time plenty for that later. There were things to be done first. "Everything is fine," he said softly. "Just fine. Help me get my armor off."

As he dropped the metal garments, he began to summarize what had transpired. "The only problem is, this isn't the sort of tactic I'd expect from the Signless. More likely, it's the actions of another house. The most likely culprit is House Serket; this reeks of their signature. What that means is that there's a good chance they know about you through a spy in this very camp." Equius paused for a long moment. "You might be in danger."

"But you had warned me that might happen," Aradia pointed out as she unhooked Equius's chest plate and set it carefully aside. "Weeks ago." In the months she had spent in this war campaign, she had become as adept as a seasoned squire at the art of getting armor on and off. (Magic? Or just repetition? Nothing felt certain, and it scared her.) She made short work of it, and had the lord down to his woolen base layer in only a few minutes. "How do we figure out who's informing? If anyone? This could still be the Signless and not the Serkets." Two hours ago, this would have concerned her twice as much as it now did (not that she was unconcerned) but this seemed less dire after... No. No she needed to stop thinking about it and focus on what was happening right now. There was nothing she could do but worry. Better not to worry herself sick.

With a bit of effort she removed her own slight amount of armor and started pulling at the hem of her itchy, wet woolen shirt. "Will we be left alone now, do you think?" she asked, looking at Equius. She needed to feel their skin press together more than anything else right now.

Equius fell back on the bed, supporting himself with his hands. "Sooner than I expected," he murmured, rubbing his eyes. "I didn't think the Serkets would show their hand so soon." It was magical to be free of his armor.

There was something a bit different about Aradia. Equius couldn't quite place it, but she seemed...hungrier. And more formidable, too: something about her was radiating an even stronger energy than usual. It was incredibly arousing.

He gestured for her to sit next to him. "Eat. You must be famished." As Aradia took her seat, Equius pulled her in close, his hand slipping around her waist. "We can't know for sure who the spies were working for, because that bloodthirsty fool Makara had them all killed. Here is what I think: the Signless does not want to watch his men die in droves. If he sees that all this plan has wrought is several of his men dead for no gain, he probably won't try again."

Equius took a deep breath, unhappy with the words about to come out of his mouth. "The Serkets have no such qualms. If anything, this failure will cause them to redouble their efforts. They will try harder and harder to punish me for wronging them until they succeed, or until I show them that can hurt them ten times worse than they can hurt me."

He didn't care about the justification. If Vriska Serket was going to try to hurt Aradia, his Aradia, Equius would rip her legs off with his own hands.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of sex.  
> And by "warning" I mean "enjoy".
> 
> -Grendel

The girl had not realized how hungry she was until she saw the food. Her stomach rumbled pointedly, and she took the plate with a murmur of her thanks, tearing into the bread. As she ate, she leaned into Equius, letting his touch comfort her.

Something about him was enlivening as well as soothing... It was difficult to understand or put into words. But Aradia desperately wanted more of the feeling. She wanted it to swirl in her belly and let her stay in just that moment.

"You'll figure it out," Aradia told him, pressing closer. "Tell me what I can do to help; I'll do whatever I can. You've had me so far..." she flashed him a small smirk. "You'll have a harder time being rid of me than that."

"Stay alert," said Equius, his hand running across Aradia's soft hips until he tucked it under her, giving her rear a slight squeeze. "I can't protect you always. Trust me and only me."

The food was finished off quickly, and she set the dish aside. The young woman turned to wrap both of her arms around Equius's chest and lean into him, cheek pressing to his shoulder, inhaling the subtle scent of him at his neck. Leather and metal and horses and rain... She loved it.

Equius took his free hand and ran it through her hair. It was still damp from before, but enough time had passed for it to regain that wild, untamed luster that he loved so much. He was a thousand miles from home. He was wet, tired, and more drunk than he'd like to be. His joints ached from sitting still in his armor for hours at a time. There was rain and mud on him, and he was still wet from bathing Aradia earlier. There were spies in his camp, assassins in his midst, Makaras at his back and Signless at his front. At home awaited him a father he loathed and a bride he feared.

But that was all irrelevant. So long as Lord Equius Zahhak had Lady Aradia Megido, he would be fine. This he believed more with every passing beat of his heart. "I am yours for the rest of the night, m'lady," he said to her. "In apology for the discomfort I've caused you, I will do anything that you ask of me. I am little more than your thrall until the sun rises on the morrow."

"All mine?" Aradia echoed, drawing back to observe the huge man who so readily gave himself over to her. He seemed just as exhausted and aching as she was. They could warm one another then. "I think I like the sound of that." She brushed long, dark locks of hair back behind Equius's ears and shifted her position so that she was kneeling, leaning over to kiss the man on the brow. "I also think we're wearing entirely too many clothes."

Being the Lady over another was not really something Aradia had much interest in. She would rather someone do what she asked of them because they wanted to... But that really was what was going on here, wasn’t it? If Lord Zahhak wanted her to tell him what to do, she could live with that.

"Kiss me," she told Equius as she took one of his hands in both of hers, guiding it to the hem of her tunic, wrapping his fingers around the fabric, and guiding him to take it from there and pull it up and away.

Equius obeyed without hesitation. While he closed his eyes, reveling in the sweetness of her tongue's dance in his mouth. His hands grasped the garment and pulled it up over her head. Underneath, there was only the cloth Aradia used to tie down her breasts. He rid her of that too.

Gods, was she lovely. Everything was shapely and graceful. Even the bruises she had incurred in the sparring earlier in the day suited her; she carried herself without acknowledgement of the dull pain they signified. Aradia was too strong for that, and he loved her for it.

It wasn't a refined beauty created through hair plucking and face painting a hundred different mixes and herbs like the noblewomen back home. Aradia's looks were inherent, something that she simply possessed. No, it wasn't sophisticated or noble, but that was what made it so intriguing. Without breaking the kiss, Equius tucked his arms through the sleeves and slipped off his own shirt. He pressed his chest against hers, trying to be as close to Aradia as physically possible.

This. This was everything Aradia had wanted. This was everything she needed at that moment - the press of their skin, bare and flushed and inseparable, and the warmth of their bodies, both so alive and so glad of it, and the taste of Equius in her mouth.

Aradia could taste the sour-sweet tang of drink on Equius's tongue. He must have had quite a lot to drink, entertaining the other lord. It hadn't made him clumsy or rough, though, so she had no reason to complain. The way she kissed was urgent and needy, as though she was starving for him.

But eventually, she broke apart their mouths to free her up to trail wet kisses down his face and front: the corner of his lips, his cheek, his jaw, sucking and nipping gently down his neck and shoulder... The salt of his skin was familiar by now. He quivered. He loved it when she trailed kisses down him. She knew this.

Her hands traced patterns over his back all the time. The poor girl had been left alone and frightened in the tent so long, growing cold on the ground. But her heart was beating faster now, urging her to warmth. Even so, her fingertips were cold as they ran over Equius's flushed skin.

Equius had barely managed to hold onto any warmth in his armor; it was designed for protection, not comfort. Aradia's fingertips were cold, but so was he, so it didn't bother him much. He hated what he had to do to her. Zahhak wasn't comfortable leaving Aradia by herself, confused and alone, for hours on end. He did it because he had to. Now he had to make up for lost time.

Equius’s hand trailed down her curves before slipping into the front of her breeches. He bypassed her smallclothes as well, reaching for the sweet warmth between her legs. Without hesitation, Equius gently slipped a finger inside her slit. Even a bit drunk, his hands were deft and careful, always mindful of their strength. "Does this please you, my lady?"

A tiny whimper left Aradia's lips. It hummed against Equius's skin as she inhaled a deep breath through her mouth. "Yes," she sighed happily, adding, "Always." As if the first night hadn't been enough, over the span of five months they had memorized the maps of one another's bodies. Just as Aradia knew every line and plane of Equius, Equius knew each curve and dip of Aradia. They might have looked an odd pair on their feet, but they fit together like no others.

The young woman tipped her hips into the lord, urging his hand further. Even as she did so, Aradia's hands found their way to Equius's breeches and began pulling at the laces, slipping them easily from their knots. One hand steadied on the man's broad shoulder, thumb tracing a soft line back and forth on his back. The other did away with the final loops restraining Equius and slipped down to match what he was doing to her, just as eager as he was. "Everything about you pleases me," she whispered between kisses that led back up to his face again.

It wasn't quite an admission of love, but Equius would take it. Her hand between his legs was marvelous; the stress that held his shoulders up so tensely seemed to just evaporate. He sighed in pleasure, his fingers still exploring Aradia's nethers.

"Then... let me give you everything," Equius said breathlessly. With his free hand, he pulled down Aradia's breeches, revealing again her creamy, strong legs. Equius' fingers had previously pulled her cloth smallclothes down several inches, revealing her womanhood, glistening and inviting.

Equius felt his cock grow to its full length at the sight. Aradia's fingers were certainly helping in that regard. He wanted to take her, _now_.

But her hands left him after another moment. To silence any protests, she kissed his mouth powerfully, a torrent of fire pouring from her to him. Aradia had never kissed him quite like that before. There was an authority to it that flooded his body. Equius felt his will and self-control fade to the back of his mind. All he wanted to do, all he could do, was obey Aradia.

When she fell away, she moved to pull her breeches and smallclothes the rest of the way off her legs. They crumpled to the ground, tossed off the bed. She hadn't been wearing shoes in the first place, making one less thing for them to worry about removing.

The girl lay back on the bed, her hair spreading in a dark halo around her head, tendrils of ink across the pillow. A strand clung to her pale cheek, and Aradia brushed it away. A smirk passed over her full lips for a moment, as if she could read his desperate thoughts. "Have me," she ordered her lover, reaching her arms up for him, beckoning and giving him a small, inviting curve of a smile.

Equius nodded, pulling off his boots and his breeches, then finally his smallclothes, tripping over himself in his rush. He was now as naked as the day he was born. Aradia, meanwhile, still had her intriguing little bauble that seemed to be... flickering?

No, it was only his imagination. Equius moved in with some trepidation. Aradia was much, much smaller than he was, and if he moved recklessly, he could hurt her. But he was hard and she was wet, so when he penetrated her, it went as smoothly as one could hope.

"Ah-!" Aradia cried out loud as she felt Equius pushing into her. Her soft flesh yielded and they slid together, fitting into place just right, a lid for a box and a glove for a hand. Lord Zahhak had not realized that he was no longer in control of his actions. He was too overwhelmed with ecstasy and relief to comprehend that it was Aradia who had control over his body, not him.

Something in... no, from? No. Of. Something _of_ Aradia, something of who and what and how she was, pulsed with a strength, glowing with some power. It was so internal that she never noticed. She was too distracted by Equius, the feeling of him above and inside her.

No matter how many times they did this - and they did do this, and often - it never lost its newness. Every single time, without fail, something felt new and exciting. It was a wonder they ever brought themselves to get up in the morning and face days of marching and training and bad weather and worse food.

Perhaps, Aradia fancied, when they made it to the Stronghold at last, when she was a proper knight and they didn't have to hide anything, they could spend unchecked hours in bed together. No early rising, no keeping their voices low. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and her arms around his neck as she covered his face with urgent kisses.

Equius was forgetting to breathe, he was so focused on what he was doing.

It had been a difficult half-year, filled with forced marches and ever-slimming supplies. Before that, it had been a hard year, filled with bad weather and monotonous routines. Before that, it had been a hard decade, a never-changing routine occasionally interspersed with a battle or a tournament or something to actually put _the one thing_ Equius was good at to work.

But, as it turned out, there were two things he was good at. He was very good at fighting… and he was very, _very_ good at making Aradia happy, and he enjoyed it quite a bit. All of him was dedicated to bringing her to ecstasy, and there was quite a bit of Lord Zahhak.

Her kisses suggested a far greater hunger, like a lion nibbling at a steak. Equius began to thrust in and out, at first gently, then building strength and friction. With each thrust, Aradia brought her hips up to meet him. They ground together, twisting and pushing and pivoting with ever greater fervor. Their prolonged contact seemed to do nothing to quench whatever was burning in Aradia. If anything, it was adding to the spark.

Between her kisses, Aradia was gasping for breath. "Harder," she begged, needing more of this. The very idea of slowing or - God forbid - _stopping_ was anathema to the young woman. Her toes curled and her hands tightened their grip on his neck and back, fingernails digging small half-circles into his taut skin. "Equius..." she whispered, almost adoringly, against his lips, "Equius... Don’t stop..."

Much as he was averse to the idea of hurting Aradia, Equius was also rather happy with the chance to allow himself to use his strength. He spent so much time holding it back, taking care that his every touch was as dainty as it could be.

But Aradia could take some of his power. Hell, she'd enjoy it. With an animalistic growl, Equius increased the tempo, his powerful legs thrusting himself deeper and deeper into Aradia. Lady Megido wanted her thrall to use some of his strength? Then Lady Megido would get it.

The digging of her nails into his skin told him that he was doing well.

Usually when the couple spent their nights thusly involved with one another, they took care to keep everything to a reasonable volume. The risk of spies had always been in the backs of their minds, and there was no reason to add fodder for any reports of them being together. Yes it was obvious that they shared a tent and a bed every night, but it would be stupid to flaunt their relationship. It would only endanger them.

But just then, Aradia didn't care about any of that. A page, Lord Makara, that Scratch man, Equius's intended... Even the Empress herself could have appeared on the other side of the entry, and it would not have stopped Aradia from screaming in pleasure.

The lord's angle was perfect, and his harsh thrusts timed just right. Aradia gasped and cried out, first wordlessly, then something that could have been his name. Her murmurs that faded down after her crying out urged him on, praising and encouraging. He had her so close now, wound like a tight cord in her that was so near to snapping.

There was a time when Equius would have reprimanded Aradia for shouting. The idea to keep their voices down had been his, and it only led to a sense of conspiracy to the sex. The secret keeping was a joke at best, but it was at least a well-maintained joke.

Equius was not putting a very large amount of thought into his actions at the moment. He was too focused on what he was doing, which was giving himself to Aradia. They were as close as two people could physically be, but it still was not close enough. He wrapped his arms around her lower waist and braced himself.

It had been several minutes. Aradia's stamina had greatly improved from the first time they shared a bed so many months ago. Despite her cries, Aradia had yet to climax. After a few more perfunctory thrusts, Equius pulled his hips back and then rolled them forward with even more force with timing ever so exact.

He knew her so well that had had managed to do just the right thing. That final thrust made Aradia gasp and moan. It was much quieter than the yelling from a second past, but it was a more personal sound. Throaty and longing, the moan reverberated for a moment before fading into harsh panting. She pulled closer, pressing their chests flush. Their hearts hammered wildly against one another, and scrapes and bruises slid over two sweat-slicked hides.

"Equius," she said again, breathing in his ear as he thrust hard enough to move her whole body. She couldn't get enough of his name. "You're so amazing."

Equius didn't reply right away – the moment was too powerful to permit speaking. He relaxed his shoulders and breathed out, and came almost immediately, a shiver of pleasure rocking him quite violently. Without much fanfare, he pulled out of Aradia, his cock wet and, for the moment, limp. He was sure it would rise again in a moment. She often had that effect on him. With a long sigh, Equius nuzzled the side of Aradia's neck and lightly kissed her.

"You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me," he said evenly, for it was a fact. "I need you like I need water and air. Tell me what you want for me to do for you, anything that springs to mind, and it will be done, my lady."

At this point, he was barely conscious. Equius was overcome with lust and pleasure and the mysterious, alluring power that Aradia suddenly wielded so skillfully. There had always been something different about the girl, but now she had literally taken control of the lord's will. If she told him to put a knife to his throat and slash, he would do it without hesitation.

When Equius had said he would do anything, he had meant it.

And somehow, Aradia did not doubt that for a moment. Just looking at him was enough to make her understand how gravely serious he was. The power she held over him was clear. It was absurd, of course. A few months ago the height of her usefulness was babysitting sheep and carding endless baskets of wool. Now she had this lord - a trained knight and the heir to a major noble house - at her beck and call.

It was unsettling how much control she really had. Was something about her personality so attractive to Lord Zahhak that he gave over to her out of adoration? Or was there something else to this? She did not want this to be only because of some magical ability. That felt so terribly false.

She had all this power... And all she wanted was for him to hold her. "Wrap your arms around me," she commanded in a subdued voice. Her request seemed so benign. "You can pet my skin or play with my hair or whatever would please you... But don’t you dare let go of me." No physical contact was enough just then.

The glamour Aradia had unwittingly put over him faded for a moment, and Equius blinked twice in confusion. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what he was doing. 

"Yes," he said in agreement. He let himself down next to her so that they were lying on his bed in one another's embrace. If someone was to walk into the tent, they would not be able to see Aradia, only Equius' back.

For the moment, she was his, and only his. No one else could even look at her. Her visage was a privilege reserved for him. Equius began to stroke her thick, frazzled hair with his right hand while his left snaked around her waist and began to play over her body, his callused fingertips tracing the soft, sensitive skin.

Everything about her was so marvelous and wonderful and perfect. Equius wished he could spend days in this bed with her, just holding one another.

But at the same time, something was troubling him. Aradia's tone, her movements, most of all her eyes... there was a sadness and confusion to them. She could hide nothing from him. "Is something troubling you?" he murmured into the top of her head.

She had no idea where this sudden vulnerability had originated. But she felt small and weak as a child, curled up in Equius's arms. Was this because of the sudden thought that had occurred to her? It seemed too much for that one thing. But the more her heart slowed and she came back to earth the more the feeling settled over her.  
In fact, as powerful and as energized as she had been a moment ago, as much as she felt she could have taken on the world, as much as she controlled Equius, she now felt diminished in perfect proportion. All magic had a price to be paid, and this was that price. While that meant it wouldn't last long, at the moment she needed Equius.

Her body pressed as close to him as she could, and her head nuzzled against his chest. His possessiveness was well-placed for the time being. A minute ago he had been her vassal, her slave. But now he was her protector in equal parts. The role suited him, of course.

A dozen possible reasons for her sudden weakness dashed through Aradia's mind. What had upset her so? Nothing seemed right but suddenly there was so much to worry about. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "Don't leave me," she said, "I want to wake up just like this tomorrow." She felt as if she was begging, but for a slip of a moment the fire rose again in her words. The necklace felt hot on her breast, though she was too distracted to notice.

Equius frowned at the non-answer. Yes, there was definitely something different about Aradia; when just a minute ago she was nigh-inhuman, a goddess given form with power and beauty beyond Equius' comprehension, she was now a small, frail, still very young girl shivering in his arms.

It was very vexing. Equius kissed her on the forehead affectionately, his thick arms wrapped around her torso. "You are safe," he declared. "Nothing will hurt you so long as I am here. I swear that to you."

He didn't know what had brought about the change in Aradia. Equius remembered well what had transpired earlier, though the memory felt odd; like he only knew about the sex because someone described it to him in great detail.

He was still satisfied, of course. He could still feel Aradia's kisses tingle on his skin, and his cock was pressing against Aradia's thigh. It had been some of the best sex they had ever had, in fact. Not that the rest was bad by any means, but there was something indescribably different about it this time. "Do you want to sleep now?" he asked gently, his concern for Aradia shining through. The jarring change in the energy of the room didn't sit well with him.

She knew he probably wanted to go again. They almost always did, after all, and physically she could have done it. But her mind was too exhausted, and she felt drained. Every ache and pain and soreness of the day, all that had seemed suspended while they had been fucking, came back at once, hitting her in a rush.

So instead she nodded a quiet, subdued yes. Aradia was just too tired to do anything else.

"I'm glad you found me," she murmured, her naked body pressing close to him as she closed her eyes and let out a few deep, slightly shaky breaths. That was cleaning it up quite a bit. He really hadn't found her so much as coerced her... But… Aradia didn't regret going with him.

At this point, Equius had little but concern for the girl. There was definitely something wrong, and he wanted to know what. Moments ago, she had been insatiable, demanding more and more of him inside of her. Now she was tired and meek, curled into a ball and nearly engulfed in his arms.

Equius shimmied down nearly a foot so that the two of them were on eye level. He touched his forehead to hers and stared softly into her eyes. "So am I," he said simply, matter-of-factually. Equius pulled his hand up and ran it over her face, shutting her eyes. "Sleep now, my love."


	6. Chapter 6

Aradia slept like the dead that night. By the next morning, she seemed to be all better. She rose before dawn, as she normally did, and seemed if not cheerful than at least at a healthy neutral. Her eyes were bright, though a little tired, and her body didn't protest any more than usual at rousing and stretching and dressing. She even kissed Equius good-morning, making no mention of the previous night. Neither the impassioned sex nor her state afterwards was brought up.

That day was to be one of traveling. They had quite a bit of ground to cover to close in on the Signless, according to the most recent reports. It was starting to look to Aradia as if they were rushing a fox into a corner; yes, it would make it easier to catch or kill it, but it would scare it into biting twice as hard if they weren’t careful. A calculated risk... But the bite of a fox and the bite of a warhorse were very different things.

In the quiet of the morning, Aradia slipped out the flap and went back behind their tent, using it as a screen to conceal her from any wandering eyes. For a time, all that she could manage to steal in the busy camp, she'd been glaring suspiciously at her necklace. The way she looked at it, as if it were the culprit of the unusual night, seemed more like a stare-down than an inspection.

 _'Maybe I should just be rid of it...'_ she’d just thought to herself when Equius's call summoned her back around to the front of the tent. She hastily hid the gem down the front of her clothes, as if it had never been in her hands.

***

Equius roused a few minutes after Aradia, smacking his lips thirstily. He always woke with a dry throat, and had taken to keeping a pitcher of water on his nightstand. Equius rose from bed like a bear from a cave, lumbering to his dresser as he put on a fresh pair of clothes. Breakfast was soon, followed by a long day of riding. Tonight, he would have no tent to sleep in. The Signless forces were just over a day's ride away, and tomorrow Equius would finally meet the man in the field.

And crush his rebellion beyond repair, of course.

The Makaras had sealed off escape from the west and the Serkets escape from the rear. The Signless' only hope was to try and break through the Zahhak forces and run until he found a new defensible position.

That wouldn't happen. Equius' men had numbers and training, plus a far more experienced command. All the Signless' men had in way of advantage was that they were fighting on their homeland.

These were all things that would be discussed tonight at the war council. Tomorrow morning, they'd go to the field and bring the Empress her enemy, alive if possible.

Lord Zahhak had it all planned out. He was confident of what he would do in battle as well as what he would say tonight. He only needed to go over a few things with Aradia in regards to her place in the upcoming fight and…

The man paused. The tent seemed oddly barren. "Aradia?" Equius called, scanning the tent for his lover. "Where are you?"

It took a moment for her to appear behind Lord Zahhak, holding open the flap of the tent and tilting her head up at him curiously. "Hm?" she made a questioning sound. "Are we leaving yet?"

"Not yet," he replied, his hand going to his cheek. He should shave tonight. It wouldn't do for him to go into battle with stubble. "We have to pack up the camp and have breakfast first." He walked over to Aradia, his thin lips curled into a frown of curiosity. "You've been acting strange, my lady. Is everything alright?"

There was definitely something off about Aradia's behavior. Though at first he had been unable to read her at all, Equius had gotten to know the woman very well indeed in the past five months. He not only could tell that she was upset, he could also tell that she was trying to hide it. Aradia was a passable actress, but Equius had spent his entire life trying to determine truths from half-truths from falsehoods. She could not fool him.

For a moment she looked away, worrying her lip between her teeth. She could not tell him. He would not take it well, she was quite sure of that. He might even make her destroy it, and she was hesitant to do that. The possibility of her needing it, as Scratch had warned, was too much to ignore.

She turned back and set her stance. A firm stance was the base of all defenses, even the non-physical ones. Lord Zahhak had taught her that. "If you promise not to ask me, I promise to tell you when I can tell you," she said. "Not yet. But eventually. Perhaps soon."

Equius' eye twitched. He was not the sort of person who had been told _no_ very often, except by his father. But that had been mitigated by the fact that Horuss was, well, his father. He had towered over the heir to his seat for the latter's entire life, even today. The Darkleer was an impossibly large man, while Aradia barely came up to Equius' sternum.

But the lord merely sighed and nodded. "As you wish," he said resignedly. He could make Aradia tell him, but that would just upset her. He wanted to know, but not badly enough to force her to say. Gods knew he kept plenty of secrets from her.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she watched Equius move on. She thought, for a moment of a moment, that he might not let her keep her secret... But it passed and she felt vaguely guilty for not trusting him. He loved her, didn't he? He wouldn't force anything from her.

"It's going to be a long, hard ride tonight, and we will likely sleep in the open, provided that it doesn't rain," said Equius as he pulled on one of his boots. "There will be a battle tomorrow, probably. You're going to participate. I will be in the center of the fray, and I want you to watch my rear. If somebody is trying to kill me and I don't see them, your job is to point them out to me."

He took a deep breath and glanced at Aradia wearily. "It's not the most dangerous job, but you will probably have to fight. I want you to do something today while we ride." As he pulled on his second boot, Equius walked over to his love's sword, laying abandoned against the wall of the tent. He picked up the light, quick blade and unsheathed it. "I want you to visualize running somebody through with this blade. Do it over and over again."

A pair of soft, dark eyes flashed from the naked blade to Equius's face. Aradia felt her heart speed by a couple of thumps. Battle. He wanted her to fight. Not for the first time in her training, a sense of self-doubt crept in to the back of Aradia's thoughts.

Equius replaced the sheath and tossed the slight warrior her sword, but even after the blade was put away, Aradia kept staring at the man who was as much her commander as he was anything. "My lord..." she said slowly, adopting a formal tone. She trailed off there. The both knew what she was going to say: she had never killed a man. And though she knew the mechanics forwards and back, did she really know _how_? She was not convinced she had it in her.

Equius put up a hand to stop her. "I've said this to an absolutely excessive amount of people in my life. Killing someone is one of the most difficult things you can do. It hurts, and it changes you. No one is the same after they take their first life. I've known good-hearted men who turned into bloodthirsty monsters, and I've known battle-hungry lordlings who never wanted to see a fight again. It varies so much that I cannot tell you what effect it will have on you. Consider yourself lucky. I was much younger than you when I killed my first man, and he was tied up and helpless. I didn't know him, he had never wronged me personally. I chopped his head off, though he was no threat to me or to anyone else. He might not have deserved to die. Your kill, on the other hand, will be of a Signless warrior. A trained killer, like yourself, whose only intention is to slay you and me and as many like us as he can. To stop this from happening, you will kill him first.” He shifted his great weight and rolled back his shoulders as he looked down at the lovely girl who watched his every movement.

“The thought exercise helps,” he went on, “I know you know what death looks like, so accustom yourself to it as best you can. You will be seeing more of it on the morrow than you have in your entire life up to this point. Some of that death will be at your hand. This is what you have trained for. You're ready for this."

Equius walked over to Aradia and took her head in his hands. With his massive palms engulfing over half her head, he leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "You're the strongest person I've ever met. I have faith in you. You ought to have faith as well."

It was quite the speech. Aradia wished she had something to say back to it. But she really didn't. Equius was more knowledgeable in this field than she was. It would probably be wise to take his advice and simply try to follow it.

As best as she could manage with his hands on her, Aradia nodded. It was such an affectionate gesture, and it occurred to Aradia how fortunate she was to have this man's favor. He didn't treat anyone else as gently as he treated her, at least not that Aradia had ever seen. This was probably the most gentle version of this pep-talk as anyone could hope for.

It was so protective and fond as to almost be a paternal sort of action. Aradia's belly twisted. She had seen animals die, plenty of them. She had seen a few of the people from her village die, of accidents or illness or old age. She had seen a stillborn sister, though she had been too young to understand it at the time, and the midwife tried to keep her out of the room. But nothing had hurt the way the death of her parents had hurt. That was the closest to her, and the freshest in her mind.

Sending someone off before their time seemed so cruel. What of their family? What if they had wives and children, the soldiers? They had done nothing to hurt her... Though if they were attacking, they meant to. And she was only watching Equius's back, which meant that they were attacking him too. She could do this to protect him, if nothing else.

The warrior-in-training took a steadying breath and nodded again. "I'll try," she promised, stroking the back of one of his hands with one of her own.

Then Equius did something he didn't do very often: he smiled at her. Even Aradia could rarely coax a smile out of the lord, but when she did, Equius made sure she knew how happy she made him. "Come on," he said as he released Aradia from his grasp. "We have breakfast and then a long ride ahead of us."


	7. Chapter 7

“My lord!” exclaimed the Naklander, pushing through the crowd of marching men to reach Lord Zahhak, “A message from up the road!”

The advance scout gave Equius the news he had been expecting: the Signless forces were indeed several miles up the road, and they knew Lord Zahhak was coming. There was no escape: the Signless had a mountain behind them, and Equius' army took up the entire passageway. Escape without fighting was nigh-impossible. The Signless host would have to engage the Zahhak host.

Reports also suggested that the Signless' army was more than twice the size of any of the previous hosts Equius had defeated. The Zahhaks still enjoyed a comfortable numerical advantage, but simply relying on overwhelming numbers was not feasible for the upcoming battle.

The sun had disappeared behind the mountain, and the sky had swiftly darkened into a starless night. "We stop here," Equius declared. "Set up the barricades and post a full quarter of the men on guard duty, in case they send out a sortie. We'll rotate through four guard shifts, two hours each. Tomorrow morning, we attack."

As his messengers spread word throughout the army of the plan, Equius rode back to where Aradia was riding. "I have a war council to be in tonight," he said formally. "Find a good spot to sleep. Come find me in the morning."

She nodded curtly. She had understood his words, but she was much too deep in her revere to actually muster the ability to say something in response. A nod was all that was needed anyway.  _'Run them through. Just run them through.'_ It was a mantra that Aradia had been repeating to herself all day. Travel was a slogging, tiring, tedious business, and Equius was too busy issuing commands and keeping things in order to be of much good company. And Aradia had no other friends among the men. A few had grudging respect of her... But that was as far as it went.

So she had taken up repeating a mantra to keep herself focused on the task that lay before her. It was a good thing her horse knew where it was going, because she certainly wasn't steering. In fact, she looked as though she was barely there inside her own head. _Run them through. Take the sword and push it into their belly. You can do it. Run them through.'_

The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Aradia. There was plenty to be done, and she helped where she could, though her presence was not really welcomed. The barricades were soon set, and a rudimentary meal cooked. The young woman ate dinner alone and went off by herself to find a likely place to spend the evening.

For two hours she sat awake, preparing herself mentally, cleaning her armor and her weapon. She could do this. She had to believe that. She fell asleep clutching her necklace against her throat, unaware that she was doing it.

***

Equius slept like a log. The war council had been a run through familiar motions, something he had done countless times in the past. Like the rest of his men, Lord Zahhak slept on the ground, albeit with a blanket covering the grass.

Learning how to sleep with a battle looming had been a lesson worth learning. His first few campaigns, all Equius was able to manage was a nervous light rest that only made him feel disoriented and tired.

By now, though, he had mastered his ability to compartmentalize his trepidation. Not sleeping wouldn't make him any safer, but a well-rested soldier was a prepared soldier. The rest wasn't deep, but it was immediate and refreshing.

When the sun shone on his face, Equius was on his feet in a minute. After five, he had his armor on. "What are their movements?" he asked as he inspected the blade of his greatsword.

Apparently, the Signless forces had been forming up for nearly fifteen minutes now. No doubt, they wanted to strike before the entire camp was mobile and organized. Equius snorted. They would never find a flaw in House Zahhak's discipline. Trying was futile.

There was one other thing, apparently. The Signless forces had what appeared to be a small group of mages in their vanguard. That was a bit of a problem, but only a bit. The mages might slow an advance, but at the front of the army, they wouldn't last very long against a cavalry rush. Certainly not in small numbers, at least. They'd need double what they had to be a serious threat.

While Equius' squire strapped armor to his horse, the lord searched the camp for Aradia. She was rather distinctive: much shorter than most of the warriors, with long, thick hair. It seldom took long to spot such a difference in appearance.

When he found her, she was already prepared, dressed and armored with her sword on her hip. Her wild hair was bound up and out of the way in a thick, black plait. She was staring at a chunk of bread, trying to convince herself to eat. Trying... and failing. The idea of food made her stomach turn. When she tried to take a bite it tasted like ashes on her tongue and bile rose in the back of her throat. She couldn't do it, she was too nervous. The greatest delicacies would have been refused by her that morning.

She gladly took the appearance of Equius as an excuse to give up trying to make herself eat. Aradia hurried over to him and stood at attention. "My lord," she said. The girl looked a little pale.

Equius was a sight. He wore his armor often, but rarely did he also wear his helmet: a sleek mask of obsidian that covered not only his entire face but also his eyes and temples. Many helmets protected the face in exchange for a decrease in visibility, but Equius would have nothing of that: his helmet was made of an extremely light but strong alloy that barely impeded his head motion, and his peripheral vision remained unperturbed.

In addition, a pair of arrow-shaped horns extended from the top of the helm, their steel blades glinting cruelly. The horns weren't decoration: Equius had gored no less than three men on them. He affixed the helmet as he walked, as it always took him a few minutes to get used to the weight.

The rest of his armor gleamed. It was polished so well that it was practically begging to be sullied with blood and viscera. Atop his warhorse, Equius would look barely human. He was deceptively fast, inhumanly strong, and immune to almost all forms of harm. This was not a man. This was a beast of war, born and bred for the taking of lives.

He walked over to Aradia, his eyes hard and filled with purpose. "Plant your feet, bend your knees," he said simply. "Harden your arm, step back, thrust with your weight in your bicep. Aim for the stomach: it's soft. Chainmail won't stop your sword."

He knelt over her bread and handed it to her. "Hold onto this. You'll want it for when you throw up." Aradia’s hand, small even in a gauntlet, curled around the bread. She slipped it into a pouch on her belt with a nod.

She tried to set her legs, but they felt like jelly. As did her arms. She really hoped that she would be able to muster the strength necessary to do this. Aradia opened her mouth to warn Equius to be careful... But the sight of him in all that ferocious armor was enough to tell her that he had no need of her words. Instead she took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. She was as ready as she was ever going to be.

"I will try to make you proud," she said.

 _'I will try not to let either of us die,'_ she thought.

Their horses were primed and ready. While Equius' was draped in dark blue banners and thick armor, Aradia's only wore a House Zahhak sigil on its side. The two of them mounted, and along with his squire, they rode to the front of the host. His army was already prepared for battle: the men stood in their designated lines, with a line of heavy cavalry in the front. Equius was part of this line of knights, with a line of squires behind them to support their lords.

The Signless army was down the dirt road, and was much smaller than expected. They ranged from a few men in armor to a great deal of what looked to be farmers wielding nothing but hoes or sickles. In the front of the army was a small group of what looked to be the command.

The Signless himself was there: a stout, muscled man in a flowing cloak that covered his body. Equius could not see his face, but he recognized his strange garb from the Wanted posters. The rebel was finally cornered, with nowhere to go but right into Equius' waiting blades.

A pair of lieutenants flanked him. One was an athletic young woman with wild hair down to her waist. She was probably a member of the local noble family, a tiny house that had pledged its strength to the Signless...House Leon or something like that. The other, meanwhile, was a tall, short-haired matron in a mage's robe. No doubt, she was the spiritual advisor that served as the Signless' oldest follower. Rumor had it she had even raised him as her own when he was a boy.

Behind the three of them was a line of similarly-dressed magic users. Equius counted six of them, seven if he included the matron. Their magic might take a knight or three down before the rest reached them and they were butchered.

Then the six mages parted and a young boy stepped from between them. He was small, skinny or even scrawny, with cropped hair and some very odd robes. They were not jade green like the other mages, but instead mustard yellow.

The boy looked very familiar. Equius squinted, but he couldn't be sure. "Aradia," he said, gesturing at the mysterious newcomer. "That boy... is he not your friend?"

Aradia turned her head at the mention. The girl was not wearing a helmet. All the ones available in the armory were much too large for her, and would have only served to hinder her, adding useless weight and impeding her vision. So she had a clear view when a friend was mentioned, clear enough to have crystal-clear vision when the blood in her veins turned to ice water.

Half a year ago, she had clung to Lord Zahhak on his horse and felt her heart stop as she watched her best friend being dragged to what was to be his execution. He had been accused of consorting with a rebel, an act of treason. Aradia had been a frightened little girl, desperate to save her friend and willing to give over the one thing she had to Lord Zahhak to barter his freedom.

Things had turned out differently than anyone could have expected. But that was another story entirely. This time there would be no begging, no bartering, no quarter given. This time there was not a thing she could do to stop someone from killing her best friend.

If anyone was guilty of treason, it was her for slicing out her friend's tongue at the instruction of what was nearly a stranger, then abandoning him to follow said stranger. But Aradia could not help but feel betrayed, seeing him. Why was he throwing away the life she'd won back for him?

But all she said, with dull detached surprise in her voice, was, "He's a Mage."

The boy was nothing to Equius; he was far more curious about the robe he was wearing. The color wasn't familiar to him; Imperial mages wore the Empress' tyrian purple, while Maryam Monastery graduates wore jade green, like the Signless magi across the field. Mustard yellow? It had no meaning to him.

"But he didn't have any magical power when we met him," he said contemplatively upon Aradia's confirmation. "If he did, he would have used it to resist us. There's something different going on here." Lord Zahhak shrugged. "Only one way to find out.” He brought in a deep breath before hollering the order: “Charge!" With his greatsword held aloft, Equius kicked Aurthour into a gallop across the field. The rest of the knights followed. They would strike at the front line, fall back, and do it again.

That was the plan, at least. The Signless melted backwards into his men while the mages stepped up. Each formed a ball of shimmering green light in their hands, like miniature stars.

Except instead of firing them at his men, the mages floated the balls into a cluster. Then the matron lifted her own hand and the six balls became one, a floating ball of power as tall and wide as Equius himself was. She floated the star over the head of the boy (Sollux, that was his name, was it?), who lifted both of his hands too.

The green sun doubled in size. Equius' eyes widened. Many of the knights hadn't even seen it, due to their blasted helmets obstructing their vision. He had to do something before-

The ball exploded. With blinding speed, spheres of energy screamed at the line of cavalry. To his surprise, Aurthour whinnied furiously and threw his front legs in the air. Equius, caught off guard, tumbled off his horse and hit the ground hard.

There was an inhuman screech and the sound of water falling on red-hot steel. As Equius blinked, trying to regain his bearings, he noticed a few things.

One, where Aurthour had been a moment ago was now two white horse legs and a pile of fine grey ash.

Two, many of the knights had befallen a very similar fate. Equius wasn't sure how many were alive, but most were dead, and all were on the ground.

Three, the boy wasn't a mage.

He was a Psiionic.


	8. Chapter 8

Well, there went her horse.

Aradia hit the ground in a roll, flinging up her arms to protect her face. She had hated Equius for insisting she learn how to fall off a horse 'the correct way'. He hadn't let her stop or come to even come to dinner until she had mastered it. Two solid days of falling and cracking every possible limb, and she'd been more bruise than human for weeks afterwards.

But he'd been right, of course. It was only because she knew what to do that she didn't split open her skull against the hard-packed earth. Still, she was dazed for a moment, and stumbled over her too-slow feet as she tried to stand.

What in the name of the gods was that? That couldn't be Sollux! He didn't have any abilities like that! She would know. She was his best friend, after all; if anyone would have realized he had some great power it was her... but she hadn't even been willing to believe him when he told her that _she_ was the one with power.

When Aradia finally got her feet steady beneath her, she looked around wildly until she spotted Equius. More massive than most, with his intense helm, he wasn't hard to spot. She kept her head low for safety as she rushed to him. "Equius?" she said as she crouched beside him, eyes wide with concern.

"Psiionic," said Lord Zahhak in a daze, watching the world spin before him. "He's doubling their power by being near them. This is... problematic." With his companion’s assistance, he slowly rose to his feet, the ground feeling shaky and unstable beneath him. Aradia’s hands were out as he stood, as if ready to catch him, just in case he tripped... The idea of her being able to catch him was preposterous, but it made her feel a little less useless. She stepped back, biting her lip nervously as Equius swayed.

As the lord tried to reorient himself, he noticed something. The mages were no longer visible: they were behind the first line of the Signless' army.

That was because the first lines of the Signless' army were advancing. At the very forefront was a line of cavalry, their lances extended as they galloped down the field.  
They weren't heavy cavalry, their horses wore no armor. On Aurthour's back, Equius would be a match for a half-dozen of them. At the moment, however, his horse was ashes. He couldn't possibly outrun them on foot. "Aradia," he said authoritatively, "get behind me. Now."

All around them, the men on their side were stumbling to their feet. Though the last blast had leveled them quite efficiently, and anyone who remained on their feet was reduced to ash, most of the men had been knocked to the ground, and managed to survive. They were not out of the game quite yet.

Suddenly wishing she had a helm after all, Aradia nodded and stepped behind Equius. Everything happening around her seemed so out of control and confusing. Her heart was thundering in her chest so hard that it hurt. But she didn't have time to hurt. She needed to focus. Her hands felt numb as she drew her blade and grasped it tight, digging in her heels as she looked around for the nearest approaching threat.

A pair of riders, recognizing Lord Zahhak, redirected themselves for him. In the case of equally skilled opponents, a man on horseback would kill a man on foot ninety-nine times out of a hundred.

It was lucky, then, that Lord Zahhak's opponents were leagues below him in ability.

One reached him a few seconds earlier than the other, swinging a lance for Equius' head. The lord responded with a dive forward, his sword fixed in front of him. With his teeth grit, Equius forced all of his weight into the blade, thrusting it into the breast of the horse. His sword sunk nearly two feet into the beast, and with an inhuman roar, Equius threw his weight to the side. The horse, alive but no doubt in shock, bucked and sent its rider flying. Equius shouted again and ripped his blood-soaked blade free.

The second horseman didn't see this display as a deterrent. He tried to skewer Lord Zahhak, but Equius sidestepped and swung low, for the horse's legs. Equius knew horses, and he knew that even a slight wound to its legs would seriously incapacitate it.

Equius chopped deep into its front ankles and hooves. With an agonized whinny, the horse crashed to a halt before crumpling. The rider barely managing to stay on. He began to climb off, pulling for a sword on his belt. Too slow. Lord Zahhak was already upon him, and without hesitation the lord stuck his sword through the man's belly.

With a heaving lift, Equius pulled the man in the air. He held his impaled foe high in the air for a moment, a visual message to the approaching Signless forces. The cavalier gasped and sank down the length of the greatsword, his stomach touching the hilt. The man's eyes went blank and his body rattled. Equius winced at the smell as the dead man voided his bowels.

With some effort, Equius dropped his blade and pulled the man off of it. He turned his attention to the second man, who was still on the ground several feet away.

Equius didn't waste time with his blade. He simply stormed over and stomped on the back of the fallen man's neck, as hard as he could. There was a loud crack as the second cavalier's neck shattered. He turned to Aradia, a thin layer of sweat forming on his face. "We need to get back before the infantry arrive."

It was a war going on, so it was only sensible that there would be fighting. That there would be killing. Aradia had known that Equius had killed men before... he'd said so himself. He spoke of it fairly often, in fact. And when he returned from skirmishes bloodied and bruised, his weapons smeared with gore, she helped clean him up and bring him back down to Earth.

In training sessions, in practice, she had seen him fight and she had seen him win, beating lesser soldiers into submission. Aradia knew that Equius had this side of him, she knew that he had killed more people than she knew how to count.

 _She had known._ And yet this came as a shock. To actually see it, to witness the man for whom she felt this odd turmoil of emotions rip the breath out of not one, but two men's  lungs... it was a completely different experience.

The warrior woman stood stock-still for a moment, in a degree of shock. It took an arrow whizzing by and narrowly missing her shoulder to bring her back to reality. With a sharp breath, Aradia snapped back and looked behind her. They really needed to move it if they didn't want to be run down. The pair dashed back across the battlefield, ducking arrows and bolts of magic that sizzled scalding paths through the air, rushing back to the safety of numbers.

Equius' size had one major disadvantage: it made him a very attractive target. Every man in the rebel army knew who he was, and how paramount it was to kill or incapacitate him. Few in the army were of his size, and none were wearing such distinctive armor.

If his appearance hadn't tipped them off to his identity, Equius' theatrical impalement of the cavalier did. Equius grunted as several arrows bounced off the back of his armor. Arrows made by an expert armorer fired from a longbow like his might penetrate the shell, but these were simple arrows from peasant archers. If they hit Aradia, on the other hand...

Equius had seen the shock on her face, but it was to be expected. He remembered when he was at her level. The brutality and desperation of his first battle had literally sickened him. It was really a good thing that Aradia hadn't been able to bring herself to eat that morning. She did feel a little queasy, but there wasn't enough in her stomach to allow her to be sick. The emptiness kept her from dry-heaving, too, so at least there was something in the world to be glad about. There was no time for a rumbling stomach – they needed to get to safe ground.

The line of House Zahhak archers parted for them and Equius rushed to the front of his men. "We cannot let the mages continue to fire!" he roared, his tremendous voice carrying to the front quarter of the ten thousand men in the host. "Light cavalry to the front, infantry who can hear my voice ten paces behind them. On my signal, we charge!"

All Aradia wanted to do was dash to the back. Why Equius insisted on being so damn noble and leading from the front lines escaped her. His orders would be just as good from the back, where he'd be safer. But the front was his place, or so he'd deemed, and she was there to watch his back, so it was her place, too.

The young woman stuck close to her lord's side as the Signless's mages gathered for another attack. A stupid, manic part of Aradia fantasized about rushing the field, striding right up to Sollux, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him until he snapped out of whatever daze was making him do this.

Her hands flexed on the hilt of her sword... Just because she couldn't do it didn't mean she couldn't think about it.

The mages were becoming more and more of a problem with each passing moment. Their blasts were as fast as arrows and far more devastating. Green suns hovered over the heads of the Signless army, smaller orbs separating from the giant ball of energy and striking House Zahhak warriors. While his men were being disintegrated, the mages simply doubled the size of the energy sphere whenever it became too small.

That Psiionic was the problem. The mages would be half as effective without him, if that. Equius' line of heavy cavalry wouldn't have been routed, and the battle would already be in its closing stages.

This infantry rush was their only hope. Equius' riders clashed with the remaining Signless cavalry, and that gave Lord Zahhak and his men the opening to cross the field and go into sword-to-sword combat.

The Signless forces crumbled before the House Zahhak swords. Equius himself tore through four, then five Signless warriors, leaving them in pieces on the ground. The leader of the army was nowhere to be seen, though. Equius gritted his teeth as he grabbed an archer by the neck with his free hand and crushed his throat.

_Where was the Signless?_

A ball of swirling, powerful energy nearly collided with Lord Zahhak, but he managed to dodge. The sphere exploded inches from his feet, the force propelling him  backwards. Equius' fall was a rough one: his head bounced off the ground and the world began to swirl and spin.

Lord Zahhak tried to regain his bearings, but what he didn't see was a Signless man-at-arms with a long, curved blade slowly stalking down to the fallen lord. Equius' greatsword had been shot from his grasp on impact. He was defenseless.

The blast was far enough away that Aradia was spared anything worse than being pelted with clods of earth. She threw up her arm to protect her face, and the dirt spattered over her armor instead.

It took her a moment to grasp what was going on. But someone was coming towards Equius, and he was on the ground, and he didn't have a sword, and it was _her_ job to be helping him, and- and-

_Just run them through._

She didn't think. She couldn't think. If she over-thought it she'd lose her nerve. Aradia let her training take over as she rushed the Signless's man-at-arms. There was no heroic shouting, no loud exclamation or fancy, impressive flourish of her blade. Aradia did not spin the sword, she did not leap through the air, and she did not twist in place before giving a mighty slash. It was inexpert, inelegant, and deadly.

A thin spire of iron bloomed from the soldier's chest. He was unable to take a final breath as his entire body slackened and the curved blade fell from his hands. The murderous sword pulled back from him with a wet, metallic sound, and he crumpled to the ground, unable to hold his own weight.

Equius blinked as he managed to get his hands under him. The thud of a collapsing body brought his eyes up to where the man had been.

Aradia stood on the other side, eyes wide, not breathing, not speaking, the gore on her weapon dripping down onto her armored hands. The poor girl was shivering, her eyes blank and confused. Her sword was bloodied, but she seemed to barely be hanging onto it. Equius traced with his eyes what had happened. She had just saved his life.

"Aradia," he began, not knowing exactly what to say. Everything was still spinning a bit as he fought to his feet. His thoughts started to reassemble, and he took a few steps towards her. "Listen to me, you have to- _get down!_ "

She hadn't seen it, but another sphere of jade power was arcing through the air, rocketing at Aradia at nigh-unfathomable speed. But she barely reacted to what Equius said, she just looked at him blankly.

Damn. No time. Equius broke his walk into a charge, and he threw himself arms-first at Aradia. He tackled the girl, throwing her out of way of the magic at the last moment.

Allowing it to collide with his back.

There was a hissing noise as the bolt of magic ate through the back of Lord Zahhak’s armor and scalded his back. Equius gasped in pain, his body spasming in shock. Everything was perfectly clear for a fraction of a fraction of a second before darkness overtook him.


	9. Chapter 9

It was all so far away from Aradia's point of view. The battle, the people all around her, Equius, the dead body lying at her feet. It felt as if her ears were clogged full of water, making everything sound distant and vague, bubbled in. Or perhaps Aradia was the one bubbled. She didn't know. The edges of her vision blurred and ran together, and everything had trails behind it, like it was moving too quickly to really be seen. Yet time seemed to be dragging.

She was absolutely useless for a minute or two.

then she crashed beneath Equius's weight, and the world hit her along with the ground.

  
The breath rushed back into her lungs with a sudden gasp, and pain slammed through her skeleton. Her back hurt something awful, and her ribs felt more than a little bruised - Equius was not what might be called 'dainty', after all. And she must have struck something in her arm, because it was buzzing painfully.

Eventually Aradia got enough sense back in her skull to push with all of her weight (she had to use her arms as well as her legs) against Equius and get his dead weight off of her. Once she was up, she could actually assess the damage.

She didn't yell; there was no point to it. Nobody would be able to hear her over the cacophony of battle, and who could help with such an injury anyway? It looked like his flesh was dissolving.

"Equius," she said urgently, kneeling beside him and bending over his limp body. "Equius?" He was out cold, completely. Aradia's mind started to race. What to do? How could she help? She didn't know how to heal! She was useless! She couldn't-

Her necklace felt hot on her skin.

Her fingers fumbled as she rushed to rip it into view. "Ah... ah..." she tried to think. What was that _word_? "-ENGLISH!" she shouted into the bauble frantically.

And for a moment, everything _stopped_. Steel stopped clashing, flesh stopped tearing, and the wounded stopped screaming. For a pristine instant, the battle was paused.  
The next wave of magic caught in the air, hanging immobile above the stagnated armies. Then, unceremoniously, they disappeared, dissipating into the air with only a slight green trail of light as evidence that they ever existed in the first place.

The men of House Zahhak exchanged glances and began to advance on the confused Signless troops. Without orbs of magic randomly disintegrating their compatriots, the Zahhak army was reinvigorated. They charged once more, and the Signless line was torn to ribbons in minutes.

Fascinating.

Scratch smiled softly at the turn of events. Precisely what he had been hoping for. He gently ducked his way past a brutish House Zahhak warrior beating to death a Signless spearman and headed for his target.

"Hello, Lady Megido," he said in his most amicable tone. "I see you decided to use my power. It seems it was as effective as you'd hope it to be." He looked down at the fallen warrior that Aradia was kneeling over, at the man's melted armor and scorched back. "Too bad about Lord Zahhak, though."

"Too bad?" parroted Aradia incredulously, " _Too bad?_ "

She went from sounding lost to sounding furious in a matter of seconds. The world had boiled down to a thick, vile syrup again, and if anyone existed at all besides Aradia, Equius, and Scratch, Aradia neither knew nor cared. Her anger flared and for a second, her gaze burned in the direction of the pale mage. But anger, as right as it felt, would get Aradia nowhere and she recognized that. Her voice faded back down to something reasonable.

"Please," she amended, swallowing hard and tightening her fingers on the gemstone. "Please help him. Or... or show me how I can help him." Even looking at Equius's wound made her stomach twist in horror. "There must be something that will fix him. He isn't dead. I can feel him breathing." She added it as if that might help.

"There are one hundred and sixty four men on this field who are breathing but dead," Scratch said dismissively, waving his hand. "Death comes slowly more often than you'd think. What you think of as life in Lord Zahhak is really just a formality. Those blasts reduced a warhorse to a pile of ash. I can feel the depths of the burn. He is most certainly dead."

Scratch kneeled over the lord, testing his ragged breathing. "And as magic has doomed him, magic can also save him. A great deal of magic, mind you; my lord's power is one of destruction, not creation. But as a skillful surgeon uses blades, instruments of death, to heal, I can use my powers, powers of destruction, to save Lord Zahhak. Aside from a new scar, he'll be as he was."

Scratch stood, brushing some dirt off the pleat of his robe. "But I have no reason to do this. No, Lord Zahhak is nothing to me. It is you, Lady Megido, who I want. So here is my price: Lord Zahhak's life in exchange for yours. You will become my servant, a handmaid in service of me and my Lord English. You will remain in this capacity from this day until your last day, or until I release you from your service."

Scratch's smile didn't waver at all. In fact, his face hardly moved. He extended a hand to Aradia, offering to shake. "Do we have a deal?"

And yet again, Aradia was put in the position of exchanging herself for someone she cared for. This really was happening all too often in her life. Why couldn't the people in her life just keep themselves out of danger, somewhere nice and boring?

She squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced. It was not saving Equius that pained her. She was so far beyond a point of resentment, and deep enough in with him that an exchange for his life was obvious, price regardless, or nearly so. But Aradia really didn't like the deal being offered.

Her hand extended and clasped Scratch's. The grip she offered was crushing, the metal gloves she wore adding a sharp, bruising force to the cementing shake. It felt like shaking hands with a devil. This didn't seem like it would end well.

But Equius needed her. Even of she wasn't with him, he had still just saved her life. That blast was meant for her. "Done," she said, "Now fix him."

Scratch did not wince at her grip. His face didn't move at all as their hands parted. He was too busy focusing his power into his palm. "Look at your hand, Lady Megido, and you'll see a white circle," he said nonchalantly. "That is my sigil. If you attempt to break our bargain, you will be torn apart fiber by fiber. It is the most painful death I can think of, and my imagination is quite vivid when it comes to such things. I'd recommend keeping your word."

Scratch then kneeled down and ran his hand over Equius' wound. The burnt flesh receded, instead replaced with white scar tissue. Equius' breathing became steady and even, and he coughed thrice, groaning. "Aradia," the lord said, his consciousness returning momentarily before he passed out again.

"Touching," Scratch observed. "I've given him my sigil, too, right here." A long boney finger pointed to the small of Equius' back. "If you disobey me, he will die too. You can be together in death."

Scratch stood up and bowed his head. "I'll give you twenty four hours to say your goodbyes. Your old lord will be unconscious for the next few hours. Do try to protect him or this will all have been quite frustrating for you. I'll see you soon." He turned around and walked away, melting into the battle and disappearing from view.

Aradia didn't waste time. Though no one would have been able to help her heal him, plenty of men could help her move Lord Zahhak. Aradia flagged down Equius's squire and sent the lad to fetch help.

Equius was carried of the battlefield after quite a bit of work. Aradia, naturally, followed. With the lack of magic aid, the Signless was outmatched in skill and numbers, and the rebel army fell. The Signless was apparently captured, but Aradia was not about to rush out to see.

Working with Equius's squire and pages, as well as explaining to his lieutenants what had happened (the abridged version) kept the girl busy for an hour or two. They got the man's armor off and saw to the (suspiciously fully-healed) wound on his back, as well as the dozens of other minor injuries accrued in the battle.

Once things began to settle down again, the still fully-armored girl sent the squire away and sat with Equius, nearly draped over her seat from her exhaustion.


	10. Chapter 10

Equius' eyes flew open. He was lying on a blanket, and his shirt was gone. Slowly, he sat up, trying to shake out the confused spinning the world was doing around him.  
"Urrrg..." Equius shut his eyes tight, trying to gather his thoughts. Something took him off of his feet, then Aradia killed a man, then he tackled her... something like that. It didn't explain why he had fallen unconscious.

Aradia was sitting nearby, looking dazed and tired and a bit mournful. Equius frowned at her. "What happened? Did we win?" he asked, still trying to piece together what had happened.

Aradia looked up at the sound of his voice, and relief flooded her body. "Yes," she nodded, "We won." It sounded like it took an effort for her to even speak. "Lie back down," she ordered, setting a hand on Equius's chest and gently urging him back. Though he supposedly was full-healed, Aradia wasn't sure what side effects Scratch's magic might have on the man. "You took a hard hit there."

When he was down again, the woman explained what had happened. As he remembered, he had been knocked down, Aradia had stabbed his assailant, and he had pushed her away from a magic bolt... but caught the bolt full-force himself. "It went right through your armor," she informed him in a detached tone. "You really have no business being alive right now."

"No business being alive?" Equius echoed hollowly. Yes...he remembered an extraordinary pain, a scalding that burned down to his very soul. Equius had passed out from sheer agony quite a few times in the past, but never like that.

He didn't like it.

Finally remembering to take off her gauntlets, Aradia flexed her hands for a moment before rising to bring a cup of water to Equius from across the room, offering it to the healing man.

Equius grabbed the cup and downed it in an instant. His throat was dry and cracked, and talking hurt. The water helped. "So then, how am I alive?" He wondered aloud. "Certainly not because of my armor. Those blasts disintegrated a war horse. Some act of providence, I suppose."

His hand went to his back, and Equius grimaced as he ran his hand over what was most certainly scar tissue. Quite a lot of it, spanning the small of his back to just below his armpits. Very strange. It was as if the blast had healed naturally, somehow. Lord Zahhak knew next to nothing about magic, other than the fact that this was not what it usually looked like when you were hit with it.

"Oh! You were there with me, weren't you?" Equius cracked a smile at Aradia. "You can inform me as to how I survived what was most certainly a killing blow."

Aradia looked, perhaps appropriately, sheepish. What was she supposed to tell him? He wasn't going to like it, no matter what she said. No more than she liked it.

"You're alive because of magic," she replied, the reluctance in every syllable. "I made an... agreement with someone." The place where Scratch had marked her prickled uncomfortably. The skin there felt too tight for her bones.

The smile slid off Equius' face almost instantly. A knot formed in his chest, his heart twisting and deforming itself. No, no, it couldn't be. Aradia was...just joking, wasn't she? She had to be.

But there wasn't any humor on her face. He could see through any lie she told, and this wasn't one of them. Aradia was dead serious. "Magic..." Equius shook his head. Aradia had no magic... right? But then, it did make sense. Her extraordinary talents, how he had become utterly smitten with her... both were traits that a mage might possess. He had even thought, when they first met, that she had magical potential.

Evidently, it was more than just potential.

"I seem to be getting into a bad habit of self-sacrifice," Aradia commented dryly. "It's really not healthy." The woman shrank back, slumping in her chair and fiddling with the end of her now very mussed braid. "I'm going to have to leave," she continued without looking at Equius, "Tomorrow. Because I wouldn't let you die. I'm not sure where. I just... can't stay here."

Lord Zahhak did not take this news lying down. With great exertion, he brought himself to his feet, shakily standing up in spite of the pain. "I won't let you be taken," he said crossly, certainly. "I'll kill whoever comes to take you away from me."

"The only person you'll kill is yourself unless you lie back down," Aradia snapped. Her concern and upset and exhaustion made her temper too short. Still, her chest tightened at the words. Why did he have to be so sweetly protective? He was only making it harder to leave him.

"No," Equius said simply, ignoring her request. "No, I refuse. I won't let this happen." He lumbered over to her, each step an ordeal that shot pain through his body. "You can't leave. You...you just can't. I _need_ you here with me, magic or no."

The warrior woman frowned at her lord for a moment before softening her shoulders. Her hand came up slowly and extended towards Equius, showing him Scratch's symbol. "If I don't go, this thing kills me," she explained. "I'm afraid it’s not as simple as physical threats. Your scar will kill you, too, if I don’t behave myself," she added, gesturing towards the man. The hands came down and folded in Aradia's lap, just to give them something to do. "After all that, I would really rather you not just let yourself die. At least this way there's a chance you'll see me again." Though for all Aradia knew, Scratch would forbid her to ever see Equius again. The thought made her feel a little ill.

Equius felt a warmth trail down his cheeks. It was vaguely familiar, somehow, like something he had done before, but not in a very, very long time. It took Equius a moment before he realized that he was crying. "Please don't go," he said, not really paying attention to what he was saying anymore. "I hate everything about my life. You're the only thing in it that makes me happy. Please... there has to be something I can do."

Aradia was on her feet in an instant, staring at Equius with an expression of horrified bewilderment. She had never seen him cry before. She had never once expected to see him cry. He just wasn't the sort. He was too strong, too stoic, too in control of himself and his emotions. No one who reserved even their smile would allow tears so easily.

"Equius..." said the young woman weakly, "Don’t cry... Please." If he kept this up, he would set her off too. And she didn't want him to see her crying. One of them had to be strong right now, and if he couldn't muster it then she would have to.

She took a step forward and embraced the man, feeling like she was holding him up more than anything else. The scar on his back felt alien to Aradia, who knew every part of him as well as she knew herself. It chilled her.

"There’s nothing you can do but try not to make it more difficult," she said. "Please. Don’t make this worse than it already is. Go back to what you did before me. Manage your men, go home, show off your win. Pretend I didn't happen." She tried to swallow but found her mouth too dry. "Just do that for me and I promise, _I promise_ that I will do all I can to find a way back to you."

Equius tried to wrap his arms around Aradia, but she was still in her armor. She was cold, jagged, hard and unpleasant to touch. He didn't care. He held her as tightly as he dared to. Any more and he would hurt her. "I love you," he said in a low, emotionless voice. "And I don't want to live without you."

What good was all his power? What use was his strength, his speed, his skill with blade and bow, his army, his tactical mind, his horsemanship, his knowledge of politics, if he couldn't use it to protect the people that were important to him? It hurt. It burned Equius like someone was skewering his chest with an iron poker. He wished he died on that field, died so that his last moments could be spent nobly, protecting Aradia instead of missing her.

"Why would you do this to me?" he asked numbly. "Save me from my hell for half a year, only to throw me back into it? Do you think anything resembling happiness waits for me at the Stronghold?"

No, no she didn't think so. But Aradia was not about to feed in to this pity party. Instead, she drew back, breaking free of his grip. Grabbing him by the shoulders was too awkward with their height difference and her armor, so she grabbed him by his upper arms instead. Her dark eyes held his prisoner, narrowed slightly as she broke in to what amounted to a lecture.

"My lord, you cease this foolishness this instant," she said sternly, "I am not going to allow you to give up on me. If we were reversed, if you had made a deal for me and had to leave me to keep me safe, you would do it. You wouldn't hesitate. And you would tell me to keep going, keep working, and not to let myself be sad and useless. Well I'm not about to let you be useless. I am doing this for _you_ and it’s too late now to change my mind." She squeezed his arms. "So you stop acting like a little boy losing his mother and take damn good care of the life I gave you, do you hear me?"

She wanted to kiss him. She always wanted to kiss him when she was furious at him.

Equius blinked three times. Aradia was right. She usually was. That fiery strength that she possessed, that surrounded him and held him captive, it wasn't magical in nature at all. It was just who she was, and it was why he loved her.

"You're right," he said. "You saved my life. I can't ever thank you enough for what you've done for me." Equius fell to his knees and bowed his head before his lady. "I'm not worthy of calling myself your lord. Even when I am away from you, you will be always in the forefront of my thoughts." He looked up at her, a weak, frail smile touching his cheeks. "I'm forever in your debt, my lady. Thank you. Thank you so much."

She bowed low over him and kissed him on the forehead. "You're welcome," she said, much softer now. "Now do as your lady bids and lie down before you make yourself worse."

The woman helped the lord back to his cot, easing him down as if she thought him terribly fragile. His injury, even as healed as it seemed, made her nervous.

Once Equius was settled, it occurred to Aradia that she was still fully clad for battle. It wasn't that it hadn't been annoying, but it had paled in importance compared to Equius's health. And she had been too afraid to leave him, even for a moment, to change clothes. One eye and both ears trained on Lord Zahhak, Aradia finally started unclasping metal fasteners and pulling stiff limbs from their sheaths.

When she was back to cloth and leather, she sat back down in her place at Equius's bedside. "How are you feeling?" she questioned.

Equius took a moment to formulate a response. "Sore," he said finally. "As though I slept on a rock. I'm usually rather out of it after a battle, but... not like this. I'll live." He turned his head to face her, looking at Aradia as if she could disappear into the ether any moment now. "What kind of deal did you make? With whom?"

The most powerful magical body Equius knew of were Imperial Magi, the tyrian-draped casters in the service of the Empress herself. They were a large reason why no noble house risked the fury of the Empire, but their recruitment process was one skewing much, much younger than Aradia. Well-born children with magical potential were taken to a special school in the Capital to learn to harness their powers, as well as to be instilled with an unshakable loyalty to the Empress.

They wouldn't have any interest in a peasant girl who was of age, regardless of her talent. And, to Equius' limited knowledge, magic couldn't be used to heal a wound.  
Then there were the other, smaller magical bodies. The Frontier Mages were a loose collection of magic users in the very reaches of the Empire's grasp, and the College of Maryam was a secretive order on an island fortress that had produced the Signless' matron and advisor. Could they have been the ones to have recruited Aradia? Equius knew very little about either... he needed an expert.

Leaning back in her seat, Aradia looked up at the top of the tent for a while. She had gotten very used to staring at the dark blue canvass over the past few months. Though some nights had been spent outside in the open, Aradia hadn't slept inside a real house since she left. And now she didn't even know what she'd be staring at before falling asleep when she went to bed tomorrow night. Of all the things to give her a pang of emotion, it would be something stupid like that.

Forcing away the sudden influx of feelings, Aradia sat up straight again and looked to Equius. Was she allowed to tell him? Would Scratch be angry at her for it if she did? Would he punish her? Punishment seemed to involve dying, and that seemed like something to avoid. She frowned. "A pale, thin man," she replied, keeping it vague, "He appeared when you were distracted entertaining Lord Makara, and told me if I needed help, to call for him."

Equius looked as thinly spread as she felt. "I needed help. He came. And he told me that I had to be his servant if he helped you..." Her eyes found themselves wandering again, though they were always drawn back to Equius. "I've made worse deals," she added dryly.

"I see," replied her lover. A pale man? That wasn't exactly helpful. It didn't seem like Aradia was very forthcoming with information about him, though. "Aradia, I need you to tell me more than that. I doubt I'll know who he is, but the Empress might."

Equius exhaled through his nose rather forcefully. The Empress, frankly, terrified him. House Serket had cunning, House Makara had bloodlust, and House Ampora had quick tempers. But none could match the cold, cruel violence possessed by the supreme leader of the Empire. She did not stop until her enemies, whoever they were, were entirely removed from existence. If Equius was to earn her ire, a year from then, nobody would ever know the name House Zahhak.

He didn't want to approach her, especially not uninvited. But he had no choice. "If there's any way to speed our reunion, any way at all, we must take it." Equius wanted to sit up. He hated lying here, helpless as a newborn, reliant on others for anything and everything. "The Empress may be the only person who can help us."

For her part, Aradia knew next to nothing about the Empress. After all, Aradia's village was distant at best, backwater if you were being more honest. The change of government, the workings of the higher classes, the control of the world... it all meant little and less to her. As long as it didn't interfere with daily life, nobody really had it in them to care. And, unless a war was declared or taxes were raised, nothing the people in the capital did had any effect on the country commoners.

But reading Equius's expression when the Empress was brought up gave Aradia pause. He didn't look comfortable about the subject, that was obvious.

"...He calls himself Scratch," Aradia admitted. "And there's really nothing remarkable about him but his paleness. His face was very good for blending into a crowd." She ran the thumb of her opposite hand across the mark on her hand. "I think this is his sigil. The scar left on your back looks like it, too."

Equius studied the mark for a moment. It wasn't anything remarkable: a white circle without a single feature inside of it. The only thing remarkable about it was how jarring it was against Aradia's skin. She wasn't any darker in complexion than any other farm worker, but the skin in the circle was so unnaturally white that it was unsettling.

So that was it? A white circle and a name (Scratch? What sort of name was that?) Equius grimaced. Even with her vast network and knowledge, the Empress still might not be able to help going on so little. "Is that it?" he urged. He had to know everything, _absolutely everything_ , that she knew. It was his only hope. "He didn't say anything about who he was working for or what he wanted?"

"He said something about his Master, so he must be in someone else's employ;" she replied, "English, I think? That was what I was supposed to shout when I needed Scratch's help, anyway."

"English...Scratch... odd names," Equius declared. "They must be foreigners. Whatever they're planning, I doubt it's good. If it turns out they are a threat to the Empire, then I will have the most powerful person in the world helping me to get you back."

Equius wished he knew more about magic. More about any of this, really. Information was a quantity, to be hoarded and preserved, cultivated and grown. A clueless lord was an ineffectual lord, and Equius Zahhak hated being ineffectual.

It felt terribly useless for Aradia, not being able to leave any breadcrumbs for Equius to find her and bring her back. She always did hate feeling helpless, and helpless was exactly what she was here. She felt small and weak; all that training and none of it would help her a bit.

"We're going to get out of this," she said, mostly to convince herself, and to make Equius think that she knew what she was doing, "We have to. No matter what magic Scratch has, it can't be flawless. Find a weak point and exploit it - just like fighting, right?" Aradia leaned forward, folding her arms on the edge of the bed and propping her head up on her fists, looking at her lover. "I'm sure it won't be very long," she lied.

"You'll work from within, I'll work from without. It won't take more than a year, no matter who they are." Equius stretched his hand out, offering his thick fingers to Aradia. "Perhaps in as little as six months. I'll postpone my marriage to the Serket girl for as long as I can. If everything goes right, this will only be a hiccup in our plan."

He was confident in his ability to fix this. He didn't know enough to make an intelligently formulated opinion on the matter, but blind hope was all that Equius had left. He couldn't grasp the opposite notion, the horrible thought that sank into him no matter how hard he fought it: the idea that he would never see Aradia again.

Aradia took the offered hand, drawing it to her face to kiss Equius's knuckles gently. She then held his hand, accepting that small bit of comfort. Any contact between the two of them helped. Speaking of their 'plan' made it feel clandestine, sneaky and underhanded. Perhaps it was. After all, she was cheating the Serket girl out of a marriage, miserable though it would be personally, that had social ramifications too. Even though they justified it Aradia couldn't wait until she was considered legitimate enough to stop hiding. And she would be! She had to be. She just had to get through this 'hiccup' first.

With nothing more to be said on the matter, Aradia changed the subject. "You must be starving," she said, "Do you want me to bring you something? If you let yourself waste away, I'm going to be very angry at you when I get back." At least a little humor, dry and gallows-hung though it was, made things seem a little better. Or, if not better, at least less dire.

"Hungry?” Honestly, food was the furthest thing from Equius' mind. He felt there were much larger concerns on his mind than eating. Such as the care of his prisoners.

That was right, he now had prisoners. Potentially, quite a lot of them. It was policy to try and take alive the Signless and his lieutenants, as well as anyone who surrendered. Some would be executed, others would be fined and sent home. A few might be tortured for information, but no more than was needed: Equius found torture distasteful and used it only when necessary.

The Signless himself would be brought before the Empress for his crimes against her personally. No doubt, his death would be slow and painful. That said, the rebel's actions had led to thousands of deaths. Regardless of the nobility of his motivations, punishment must be meted for his crimes. "Did we lose anyone important?" Equius asked. "On our side or on theirs?" After a moment's thought, Equius added, "how about your friend? Sollux, right?"

A flash of surprise moved across Aradia's face, followed by a look of pain that lingers a while she had completely forgotten about Sollux in the horrible excitement of the magic and saving Equius. That made her feel oddly guilty. She didn’t know if he was alive or dead, captured or free. And honestly, she didn't know what she wanted.

"We lost a lot of infantry," she replied to distract herself from wondering, "One of your Generals lost an arm to a magic bolt; I don’t know if he made it or not. Nobody has any horses anymore, except the pack animals that were left behind."

Equius groaned. The infantry he had expected, but the horses were much more difficult to replace. His father would be furious that he had lost the entire cavalry regiment, including his own horse. Equius would have no choice but to walk all the way home with the prisoners in tow. Hopefully, he could hand some of them off to the Serkets, and maybe a few that nobody would miss to the Makaras.

Aradia’s boots scuffed restlessly in the dirt beneath her seat. "The Signless is captured, of course. So is the older woman who was with him." That had been sad, actually, seeing such a proud, reserved lady going along with her capture with quiet dignity. Aradia knew she hadn't been that impressive when Equius dragged her into camp the first time. "The other woman, the younger one, got away I think. Sollux.... I don’t know about Sollux," she ended on a weak, wilted note.

"I imagine I'll have a lot of clerical work to do," Equius said gloomily. "Accounting for food stores and travel with prisoners and the like. I'll find out what I can about your friend when I can, I promise." Equius gently squeezed her hand in as best a gesture of reassurance as he could make. "But I want our last night together for-” his tongue tripped, “-for a while to be special. So I'm going to tell my generals to fuck off for a bit."

The curse felt vulgar and base against his tongue. Equius refrained from thinking such words, usually, except during sex. There was something dreadfully deviant about saying it aloud. He rather liked it.

Picking up on this, Aradia blinked, and then cracked a small, nervous looking smile. She nodded and squeezed back on Equius's hand. For such a gruff, in control man, he really was very sweet. He didn't have to bother with Sollux or be so gentle with Aradia. But he was, and he even trusted her enough to allow her to see his tears. Even he could be vulnerable.

She really liked that about him.

Suddenly finding the world to be terribly desolate, Aradia dropped Equius's hand and stood, wrapping her arms around his neck instead. Yes, it was awkward to embrace him from their positions, but she wasn't in any head space that would allow her to care. She buried her face in his neck, shutting her eyes very tightly. Perhaps if she could just me memorize how it felt when he held her she would be able to keep herself from forgetting anything else about him.

Equius pulled her in close, his hands taking firm hold of the back of Aradia's neck. If only he could hold her forever, so that nobody could take her away. He didn't want to lose her, not for a day or a month or a year. It seemed that there wasn't any choice, however, so he would have to settle for the sparse hours they had remaining.

He breathed deeply of her scent, of dirt and straw and sweat. His hands ran down her familiar curves and the taut, lean muscle on her back. After five or six minutes of both of them lying still, Equius let Aradia go and lifted her chin.

"Food sounds good," he said softly. "Let's go have some."

The girl nodded and pulled away, offering her hands to assist the recovering man in getting to his feet. Partially to keep Equius from hurting himself and partially to keep herself busy and distracted, Aradia wouldn't let him do much on his own.

Equius' back felt a bit strained, but he doubted it had much to do with the scar. As he put his shirt on, he ran his hands over the healed magical burn. It was certainly his largest scar, and his only burn scar. Most of his permanent wounds served as casual reminders of past battles and duels: they throbbed with pain on occasion, and were prone to split open if he overexerted himself.

The burn was different. He couldn't feel it, but at the same time, he knew it was there. He was aware of it when he stood up, when he moved. The sensation was difficult to explain.

It was something he was going to have to live with, though. Lord Zahhak doubted it'd get in his way.

Aradia’s deft, gentle hands laced Equius’s shirt, examining him as she did helped him dress. The scar was just as alarming to her as the mark on her hand had been to him. Though Equius had always been scarred, it never seemed like a disfigurement. It didn't ruin his appearance (not that anyone would be accusing Lord Zahhak of being a pretty lad any time soon), but it stood out as being terribly different from his other scars.

Aradia wondered to herself if this would be one of the marks he was proud of.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light adult themes in this one, kiddies.  
> -Grendel

The two made their way out into the camp. It was a study in organized chaos as soldiers and knights and generals and servants ran about, figuring out who was dead, who was injured, who was captured, and who just needed a very strong drink. As always, Aradia was Equius's shadow, a step behind and to the side, never touching, but never far.

At the sight of Equius, many different infantry and officers ran up to him, asking if he was alright. He responded by demanding a status report. Evidently, the Signless forces had broken and ran in the battle's closing moments, several hundred escaping through a hole in the Zahhak line. Most of the Signless host, however, was dead, injured, or captured. Equius had lost far more men than he had wanted to, but the losses were acceptable for an army of this size.

The Signless was indeed being held captive, and he had taken an arrow in the battle. Surgeons were working to save him, just so that the Empress could kill him in the manner she found most befitting. Equius briefly considered putting the bastard out of his misery, but... there was also a sizable bounty to be collected. The war had taken a giant chunk out of House Zahhak's purse, and the reparations due to House Makara would exacerbate that. They needed money, a lot of it. Passing up this opportunity would be foolish out of something as naive as mercy.

Dinner wasn't particularly glamorous: bread and water was being handed out from the rebel stores. Equius was able to commandeer two chunks of cheese, one of which he gave to Aradia, who nodded her thanks and tried to force herself to eat.

She really didn't feel hungry, though she hadn't eaten all day. In fact, every time she started to take a bite of something, she remembered that she was leaving with scratch tomorrow, or she thought of the man she had killed, and the bile rose in the back of her throat and the prospect of food became a challenge. It was easier to pick at it. Small nibbles proved more manageable.

As they ate their sad little feast, Equius observed the men under his command passively. "With these losses," he thought aloud, "We no longer have the manpower to match House Makara. That isn't good."

"But the Makaras are your allies?" Aradia asked with a frown. "I know you've said the man is insane, but do you really think he could attack you?" That seemed a bit extreme to Aradia. But then again, she didn't know Gamzee Makara.

" _Ally_ suggests we have similar motivations and goals," said Equius, staring at the hardtack. "We do not. There is only one reason our Houses are not actively hostile towards one another: the Empress would not permit it."

Grabbing a nearby stick, Equius drew a circle, and in the circle a small, simplified version of the Imperial sigil: two wavy lines connected by a straight one. "The Empress is vastly powerful: she is equipped with the manpower and weapons to easily dispatch with any two lords at once. But even she can't control the vast breadth of her domain, so she has five so-called Great Lords to govern all but the frontiers."

Equius drew a semicircle around the Empress' circle, then split it into five sections. One by one, he drew a symbol in them as well. "Those houses are the Amporas, the Makaras, the Serkets, the Pyropes, and my family, the Zahhaks. We all specialize: the Amporas have a great navy, the Makara infantry fights savagely, the Serkets cultivate spies and assassins, the Pyropes have their dragon knights, and the Zahhaks are, of course, cavalry. The Five Great Lords, along with the Empress, make up the core of the Empire."

"But," he continued, "We don't like one another very much. The Pyropes and the Serkets have a feud that's lasted centuries. The Amporas, as a group that served the Empress long before the rest of us, look down on the other four families. The Makaras are unstable and vicious, but the Empress sees their value, so she allows them their proclivities. All things considered, we're probably the most popular house." Equius snorted loudly. "And most of these lords despise my family. That should tell you something." Viciously, he tore into the bread: Equius hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started eating.

"We're held together only of fear of the Empress," he said after swallowing. "The only thing we hate more than her is one another, which is just how she likes it. If the Makaras thought they could get away with it, they'd burn the Stronghold to the ground. We'd do the same to Mount Miracles, if we could. Any sort of camaraderie between myself and a Makara is diplomacy. A lord spends half his life pretending to like people he hates, and the other half plotting ways to get rid of the people he hates."

This explanation was a revelation to Aradia, who had never had a history or government lesson in her life. The girl still couldn't even read (though at least Equius had her counting well into the eighties now). Beyond the basics of 'these are the people who may tell you what to do, these are the people who you must obey', who was in charge of whom didn't really matter to the low born. Especially beyond the cities.

Unabashedly fascinated, Aradia tilted her head to one side, leaning in. And looking at the symbols in the dirt kept her from having to watch Equius eat. "Huh," she made a little sound of interest, "That makes sense, I think." It also explained why Equius was so miserable all the time. Though he had been saying for some time that Aradia made his life much better, Aradia had been brushing it off as flattery and infatuation. This made it clear that Lord Zahhak's life beyond his lover really was a chore, and on this thread, she commented: "It sounds exhausting."

After chewing and forcing herself to swallow another bite of food, Aradia leaned forward and pointed to the Empress's sigil. "So why do they listen to her?" she asked. "What makes her able to control everyone else?" It was simple for the commoners - someone was in charge, they had weapons, they had a name that meant something, so you obeyed them or they hurt you. But these Houses were so mighty... It went beyond a personal level of control, a much more complicated matter.

Equius blinked confusedly at Aradia. She might as well have asked _’why do we need to eat to live’_ or _‘Why do you open your mouth to speak’_. Obeying the Empress was simply how things were done. The opposite wasn't optional.

"Besides her massive power and wealth?" he said slowly, working it out for himself as he spoke. "The woman is a terror. She knows tremendous amounts, and her spies are untouchable. Every year for her birthday, she invites all the lords for a tournament, but it's really just a way for her to flex her military might before us. None of us can hope to match that sort of strength. Instead of wasting our time and resource for petty acts of rebellion, we do our best to make the Empress happy with us. The Makaras are quite good at that: they get away with things that we never could."

He thought for a moment. "It's a bit like a father and his children. So long as the father doesn't hit them very often, there's no point in trying to resist him. He's always going to be bigger and stronger, no matter what his children do. All that's to be done is to try and curry his favor."

It was a fair analogy. Jutting out her bottom lip slightly, Aradia nodded. Don’t pick a fight against the one who will always best you. The cleverer move would be to make them like you enough that _they_ won't pick a fight with _you_.

The Empress had never hurt Aradia, or anyone she knew, beyond ordering the Houses to hunt down the Signless, and all the trouble that had caused. Taxes were as reasonable as they could be, and no drafts had been called in the past few generations. She seemed a good enough ruler to Aradia. But maybe the appearance differed at the higher viewpoint of the nobility. "And you think you can get the Empress to help you track down Scratch and his Master and find me?" said Aradia after eating in silence for a few bites.

"It isn't so much of a question of whether or not she _can_ help," Equius said contemplatively. "It's more of a question of if she'll want to. It has very little to do with me, because I don't know anything about this Scratch person. If anyone knows who they are, she will. I have no idea what she'll do with the knowledge. It's in her hands." After a moment, Equius realized how hopeless that sounded. He hastily added, "But I doubt she'll let this go unnoticed. If this Scratch possesses such incredible stores of magic, his lord must be greater still. The Empress wouldn't abide for the existence of such an entity. She will do something, and when she does, I'll be there to take you back."

And that was the last word on the subject.

It was terrible to think that they were so at someone else's mercy. Equius would of course do his best in tracking down Aradia, but... Really, what more could he do, after involving the ruler of their land? Assuming that she could be persuaded to help in the first place.

Shivering unpleasantly, Aradia pushed closer to Equius. Their arms were flush and they were near enough to be improper, were they anyone else, when Equius sidled closer and whispered to her, "Now then, what is it that you'd like to do, my lady?"

She turned her head to look at him. One night. One night and then months, perhaps years apart, assuming they ever did see one another again. But they had just been in a major battle, and Equius had been very seriously injured. "How well do you feel?" Aradia questioned, all sweet concern.

"Well enough," he said, cracking his neck. Equius was in a not-inconsiderable amount of pain, but then, this was always true. Decades of duels, jousts, spars, and battles had left him with an eternal weariness that made everything at least a little bit painful. So what if that pain was amplified at the moment? He could take it. Equius' threshold for hurt was quite high indeed. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." Equius leaned in as close as he dared and nibbled on Aradia's ear. "All I want is what you want."

A jolting shiver traveled up and down Aradia’s spine, focusing in her neck and making her hair stand on end. A tugging sensation twisted in the pit of her stomach, a sensation that traveled down from where she felt Equius's mouth.

What she _wanted_ was to turn and kiss him until he forgot how to breathe. But they were not in private yet, and he still had to keep up appearances even after she left. Instead, Aradia stood on shaky legs and silently offered a hand to Equius, which he accepted and used to help himself stand, suppressing a grunt of exertion in the back of his throat.  
Part of him wanted to take Aradia in this field, right now, and to hell with the consequences. But she was thinking clearer, obviously. In his exhausted, increasingly troubled mental state, Lord Zahhak wasn't running on much except for hope and stubbornness. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"Someplace different," replied the girl, feeling a bit manic, wild ideas occurring to her in her growing sense of desperation. She wanted to get out of here - the camp was stifling her. And she wanted to scream and not worry about anybody hearing. And she thought that maybe, just maybe, if she wasn't near the camp, Scratch wouldn't bother to go looking for her. Even if that would never happen, she couldn't help but wish it was so.

Striding forward with a purpose, totally ignoring all else she saw in the busy camp, Aradia led her lover right out of the base. Equius suppressed a weak protest. He knew it was a bad idea to leave, but he also knew that he didn't care enough to do anything about. Aradia was his lady; if she wanted to leave, they'd leave.

They headed in a direction that had not yet been scouted, jutting out into hills and brush and wood, parallel to the battlefield but out of its sight. She neither released Equius's hand not spoke until they had left the camp behind, out of sight and (happily, for her) out of mind.

They were in a small clearing, shaded from view on all sides by trees and hills, where the grass beneath their feet was soft enough to be manageable. Aradia grabbed Equius's other hand and pulled him to her, kissing him tenderly, and Equius had no choice but to close his eyes and enjoy it. All he wanted was to make her happy, make her want to remember him while they were separated. He would do anything for Aradia, anything she asked. She knew that.

He wrapped his arms tight around her and didn't let go. If only this was all it took to protect Aradia from the people who wanted to take her away from him. He knew that his strength couldn't do that, but at the very least, Equius could hold onto her in the fleeting hours they had left together.

And Equius got his wish: he did get to take Aradia right there in the field. A different field, and really she was the one who took him, but still. She pushed him down and didn't speak once (though that was not at all to say that she was silent) but kissed him as though he made her drunk. And though she continued to say nothing to that effect, every touch and kiss and movement Aradia made was devoted, adoring, like she really was in love with him.

But even if that was so, she never said it. It was too late; a great romantic confession now would only bring them more pain.

They kept at it until the world grew dark and the sky was painted with swaths of stars. The moon was full and painful to look at, so Aradia didn't. Instead she focused on Equius's face and nuzzled into his hair, one hand caressing his neck and the other tightly interlacing her fingers with his. "I don’t want to go," she murmured miserably.

"You think I want you to?" Equius asked. At the moment, Aradia was holding him, her arms and legs wrapped around his body as if she was afraid to let go. Which, he imagined, she probably was. "I want you to be safe and happy and strong. How can I ensure that if I can't see you, can't hear your voice, can't touch you?" He leaned over and kissed Aradia on the temple. "But we must. You said it yourself. The deal is ironclad, and we must abide by it. Scratch never said a thing about me coming to save you, right? I'll take you back, Aradia. If I have to cut my way through a thousand men, I'll take you back. Whatever it costs, as soon as I am able, I will take you into my arms and make sure you know that everything is going to be alright."

He was speaking for both of them. Much as Aradia had comforted him earlier, it was his duty to comfort her now. "Stay strong, my love. Do what it takes. Contact me if you can, keep me in your thoughts if you cannot. I will do the same, I promise." Equius smiled at the girl, even though she couldn't see his face. He hadn't ever thought he'd end up here. It wasn't unheard of for lords to fall in love in a campaign and break their arranged marriage, but that tended to happen to young men, and the girl usually wasn't a peasant.  
Equius knew he was too old for such youthful fancies, and he didn't care. He wanted Aradia. No one else.

Not since Aradia was a child had anyone made her feel this secure. After her parents died, she couldn't trust anyone, or at least, she didn't think she could. Even her friends, even Sollux, she wouldn't allow herself to lean on. They couldn't help her, they couldn't defend her. And even when she was small, her parents had been kind and gentle with her, but wholly unremarkable. Equius was unlike anyone else. He was fierce, vocal about his love for her and his desire to defend her. It wasn't the sort of thing one would expect from a lord, a ferocious knight like him. But he _was_ so caring and it felt wonderful. He was the only person Aradia could truly entrust with her life, her loyalty, and her love. He said he would do anything to return her to him, and Aradia believed it.

"If you forget about me and wed some noble girl for her money, I swear I will come back and assassinate you," she said, mostly joking, though a little possessively cautioning. She didn't think he would do such a thing to her, and squeezed his hand and kissed his face to assure him so.

Equius had a confidant, once. Someone he was as close to as he was with Aradia, although in a far more platonic sense. Nepeta Leijon had been a minor lady from a minor family that had close ties to House Zahhak. The two of them spent as much time as they could together, and they trusted each other with everything. Equius had begged his father to allow them to be betrothed, so that they might never separate, but it was to no avail. House Leijon was merely a banner-house, too tiny to be joined with the eldest, only son of Zahhak.

They could remain friends, though, and they did until Equius got back from his first campaign. They both got piss-drunk at the feast, and... he preferred not to think about the rest.

The hole that was left in him after she was gone was one Equius thought would never be filled. Not until he met Aradia. They weren't much alike, on the surface, but both had a fiery strength to them, an element of feral indomitability that meant they could speak to Equius as their equal. He had grown tired, very tired, of either being spoken down to (by his father, other Great Lords, his swordmaster,) or spoken up to (by virtually everyone else).

"The thought has never crossed my mind," he replied. It hadn't. Equius refused to entertain the notion that this day was his last day with Aradia.

A slight urge of guilt tugged at Aradia. A good person would tell their lover not to fret, and assure them that if they met another in their absence, it was fine, to go with that newer person... But Aradia couldn't bring herself to do that. Imagining spending months or years serving Scratch without Equius to come home to was too much.  
Funny how having to leave a man she had known for only half a year felt more painful and scared her more than leaving her friends and the only home she had ever known. Aradia squeezed his hand tighter.

Soon it would be dawn, and then Aradia would be forced to leave. Sooner still, they would be missed at camp. Even though all she wanted to do was lay there with Equius, she knew this. "We should go back," she sighed sadly after a long stretch of silence.

"We should," Equius agreed, pulling himself to his feet. He knew Aradia disliked being carried, so he merely helped her up and the two of them headed back to the camp.


	12. Chapter 12

Things were quiet, as quiet as a warcamp could be. There was a great deal to be done after the battle: casualties had to be accounted for, and looting had to be done. Equius doubted the Signless troops had much in the way of gold on them, but some had nice blades or pieces of armor that his men would want.

Most importantly, the men had to give a proper burial to the corpses. The only ones who got this treatment were his infantry: knights would be brought back to their families, while Signless bodies would be left to either rot or be claimed by whatever family they once possessed. It was boring, slow work, and the only ones exempt from it were the injured and a small force to guard the hostages.

Equius cracked his back. They had been lying there in one another's arms for several hours. It had been comfortable and intimate, but not the best place to rest his wounded back. He turned to Aradia, his lips curling into a smile once more. "What can I do now to please you, my lady?"

They needed sleep, the both of them. And really there was nothing else for it. They had both been up early, they had both been through battle. Equius had a very serious wound with which to contend, even if it had been patched. Aradia had just potentially ruined her own life. And in the morning, she would have to leave, going Gods-know-where. Their bodies needed rest to keep going.

So she said as much, managing not to yawn and rub at her eyes like a child, though only barely.

Equius nodded. He was quite exhausted, but he had learned how to contend with such suffering a while ago. He was only still awake because he wanted to do whatever it was Aradia wanted to do. Quietly, he was very glad that all she wanted was to slumber.

In the still of the camp, even just walking back to their tent, Aradia kept stealing kisses, finding excuses to touch Equius, acting much as a lovesick little maid courting for the first time, trying to make reasons to brush their hands just once more. She was trying to keep it fresh, keep herself remembering how it felt when she was near him. She was quite sure that nothing would ever feel half so good.

He didn't mind the attention she was showing him. It was actually quite nice to have the opportunity for them to be affectionate in public, without giving a damn what anybody who saw them thought. Equius returned her touch with his own, gently stroking Aradia's hair and resting his arm on her shoulder.

When they got back to the makeshift tent that had been set up for him while he was unconscious, Equius kicked his shoes off and had Aradia do the same. The two of them fell into bed together, falling asleep in one another's arms for what would be the last time in quite a while.

***

Morning came much too soon, as dreaded mornings tend to do. Nothing could be done to delay the light that began filtering through the canvass, slipping beneath the cracks and gaps in the construction to paint yellow lines on Equius and Aradia's faces.

As always, Aradia was the first one awake, though she put her hands over her face and shut her eyes and tried to pretend that it was going to be dark just a little longer. A horrible, sick anxiety filled her bones, and she could almost feel her time approaching. Though she did not know when or by what means Scratch would appear, she knew it would be soon.

Equius' eyes flew open as he heard the door of his tent rustle. Someone was entering uninvited, which was unacceptable. Careful not to disturb Aradia, he sat up and looked at the intruder.

It was a thin, pale man of average height. His face bore a cold, joyless smile, while his green eyes flashed dangerously. Equius felt his heart sink like a stone. Everything about this man exuded danger. Reminded Lord Zahhak a bit of his father, actually.

The man just nodded his head at Equius. "Twenty three hours, fifty three minutes, fourteen seconds... fifteen seconds," he said in a voice that was, somehow, just a bit _wrong_. "That is how much of the twenty-four hours has elapsed. You have precious few minutes left together."

Equius returned the nod with his darkest glare. "Aradia," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder, "get up."

She was already propping herself up, stirred by Equius's movement. Aradia wanted to draw back from Scratch, to shrink away and hide behind Equius and let him protect her from Scratch. God knew he _would_ , if she asked it of him. But Aradia was not half that foolhardy, nor was she nearly stupid enough to imagine that it would work. She had to face this head-on, and she had to be brave, if only to keep Equius from trying to throttle Scratch and getting himself killed in the process.

She was still wearing her clothes from the day before - her men's tunic and trousers, cinched and adjusted with a bit of thread to coax it into fitting. She sat up, swung her legs out of bed, and nodded solemnly to Scratch. "Give us a moment," she requested, "I will meet you outside."

Moving quickly to conserve the scarce time, Aradia started putting on her shoes and binding her hair back and out of her way. She didn't know where they were going or how they were getting there, and she meant to be prepared.

Equius just watched Aradia move. He didn't say anything, he just drank in her features for what he hoped wouldn't be the final time. After a few minutes of that, Lord Zahhak was positive that the girl's appearance would stay in his mind for as long as his mind remained sharp.

Once Aradia was done dressing, Equius stood up in his worn clothes from last night. He walked over to her, wrapped his hands around her waist, and kissed her as deeply as he could. They stayed locked for a full minute, and only then did Equius break the kiss.

"I love you," he said to Aradia, looking into her brown eyes.

"I love you, too," Aradia reciprocated at last, the words feeling awkward and new in her mouth. Her hands were on his face, thumb tracing the smooth rise of his cheekbone. He was much older than her, and his face was weathered, scarred and rough with stubble. Equius didn't really look like some refined noble lord. But Aradia had never liked any face more. She wanted to keep looking at it forever.

She pulled his face down and kissed him once more, and she was breathing hard when she pulled away. They were out of time.

"I'll come back to you," she told him fiercely as her hands fell and slipped away from his face. She took a step back and inhaled a deep, steady breath. She could do this. She had to. "Take care of yourself. I'll miss you."

Equius just nodded a reply. He watched her walk out, then sat back down on his bed, staring unblinkingly at the door.

***

"You're late," Scratch said as Aradia emerged. "I was very generous and allowed you an extra seventeen seconds. Don't expect such kindness in the future." He extended a hand to Aradia, his bony fingers outstretched. "Come now, we have much work to do. No time to dally."

After a moment of utterly pointless deliberation, Aradia accepted the offered hand and allowed Scratch to lead. His hand was hard beneath hers, like metal rather than bone was sealed away behind that thin, papery skin.

"Where are we going?" she asked to force her thoughts away from the man in the tent.

"Away from here," Scratch replied with a knowing smile. He closed his eyes and focused, and the camp melted away around them.

The two of them found themselves in a simple room with a green carpet and little else. Only one piece of furniture decorated the room: a table with a complete tea set and a kettle that was billowing smoke.

"First thing's first," Scratch said pleasantly. "You and I are going to drink some tea and have a good, long discussion about your future."

 

END


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